


Sephiroth Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

by AnnaDruvez



Series: Sephiroth Potter [2]
Category: Final Fantasy VII, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood, Gen, Language, Teenagers, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 67,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaDruvez/pseuds/AnnaDruvez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry remembers his life as Sephiroth. It should make things easier for him, right? But the slightest change can make things so much worse. New and old allies surface, as do current and ancient enemies. But, are the enemies of my enemies my friends? Or are they still enemies? Rated for language, blood, violence, teen awkwardness and anything else that might be in here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer**
> 
>  
> 
> If I owned this, I wouldn't write it for free.
> 
>  
> 
> **Still Amazed**
> 
>  
> 
> From 5 pm on the 25th October to 11.59 pm on the 27th October, Sephiroth Potter and the Goblet of Fire received the following: 1446 views combined on AO3 and FFN, 19 reviews, 2 C2s, 43 favorites, 52 followers (story), 12 followers (author), 1 Kudos, 1 Bookmark. At noon today (28th October), views had reached a total of 1786. In addition, another favorite and follower for the story popped up. I am in awe, especially as more keep coming in.
> 
> Again, thank you all.

# One

Harry James Potter was less than pleased. He had been entered into the Tri-Wizard tournament. He had out flown a dragon, rescued the fair maiden from the lake (Okay, it was Ron. Still...), and emerged victorious from the maze. He had regained the memories of his past life and defeated Voldemort for what he was sure was only the latest of many times.

But, the Headmaster insisted that he return to his Aunt's abode. There was no commentary on how or why he had the authority to insist that he do so. He simply commanded and all those around him obeyed. If Harry didn't know better, he'd say the man had all of his friends under the Imperius Curse.

Well, at least he was fairly certain the old coot didn't...

Now, he was sitting in the park. It wasn't exactly a pretty place, though the sun was shining. It was, at best, a rectangle full of dirt and weeds with the occasional swing set and bench. He wasn't outside the house to enjoy it, however. He was out here to avoid dealing with the Dursleys. He snorted. His grand goal for the summer: avoidance.

Part of him did marvel over the number of weeds around him. There wasn't much, but it was still more than Sephiroth had ever seen in Midgar. In that foul city – if there was a patch of land with no concrete or metal covering it – there was only dirt to be found. Flowers, grass and weeds alike all avoided the place.

Speaking of avoidance. Dudley Dursley and friends were approaching from the south. He was getting sick and tired of dealing with the lot of them. Harry Hunting when he was a young child was bad enough but, these days, they taunted him with things that they had no frame of reference to understand. If it wasn't his hair, it was his eyes or his newly graceful movements. They were absolutely certain that he was trying to be a girl. He was absolutely certain that he would kill them all if he didn't leave soon.

The arguments for a grisly murder or three were quickly outpacing the arguments against.

He sat on his swing and listened to their taunts. At least they could only tease him about surface qualities. He'd discovered that he now spoke his first life's native language when sleeping. Or, rather, he'd had it angrily pointed out that he was 'talking gibberish' by his abruptly woken and furious uncle a few nights after he arrived.

As he sat there pondering the necessity for keeping the unrelated whale that his aunt married alive, he failed to notice the park growing colder and the sky darkening. It was brought to his attention when Dudley suddenly broke off and demanded to know what he was doing to cause it. He glanced around and cocked his head curiously. That felt like... a dementor? Or, maybe, more than one?

Harry, determined to deal with the problem quickly and quietly, just rolled his eyes. "Shut up and go home. Unless you want to deal with the latest attempt to kill me."

"W-what?"

"Every other weird thing in my life has been a roundabout method of trying to murder me." He snarked at the boy. "Why should this be any different?"

"K-kill you?"

"Yes. Kill me." Dudley's friends had run off. A fact that they both noticed at the same time. Harry frowned. "Come on. We need to get inside."

They ran. Dudley was nowhere near as fast as Harry, but Harry slowed down a bit to keep the boy near. He may mentally contemplate the idea of killing his last remaining relatives, but he wasn't going to let anything else do the job for him. He'd earned the right to do it himself through eleven hard years of slavery and sleeping in a cupboard.

They were going under a bridge when he realized that there was a dementor at the other end of the passage. He turned to lead Dudley back out and down another path, but a second dementor had boxed them in. He assessed the situation quickly. "Stay close."

Dudley was either gaining a sensible streak or scared out of his mind. Considering the sharp stench of fresh urine, Harry was willing to be it was the latter. Still, the boy didn't argue when Harry backed him towards one concrete support wall and positioned himself in front of him. Dudley wasn't even gibbering or trying to blame Harry for it, now.

That alone worried him, but he would have to think about treating his cousin's shock later. He couldn't use his wand on these things. It was illegal. Logically, there should be a self-defense clause. However, this was the government and bureaucracy was seldom logical.

Adrenaline raced through his veins, forced through by his pounding heart. Part of him was afraid. Part of him, however, was exhilarated. He'd been spoiling for a good fight.

He lifted his left arm and fire flew towards the dementor on that side. The Firaga was nowhere near as overpowered as the one he'd thrown in the maze less than a month before. It was still enough to take down the attacker with a single hit. He brought his hand back down and curled it around empty air. A moment later, Masamune materialized in his fist.

His Firaga had set the stones alight on that side of the passage, so the dementors – the three of them remaining – approached from his right. He felt the memories of the past threaten to overwhelm him, but he pushed them aside with the discipline that he'd used to overwhelm and dominate Jenova after his first death in the reactor. He would submit to no one.

He moved forward quickly, enacting a trick he'd learned from Genesis. Fire wrapped the blade of his sword and his hand flicked faster than the eye could see. The first dementor fell to the ground, split neatly in twain and smoking. The other two withdrew slightly in surprised fear.

He let the smirk play across his lips. "Let's play."

It took four slices of his blade to drop the remaining dementors, mostly because they dodged far better now that they weren't expecting him to be incapacitated. He looked down on their corpses and surveyed the area one last time. There were no more coming, apparently. He let go of the katana and it vanished.

He returned to Dudley. The pig had slid down the wall when his legs gave out beneath him. The increasing stench indicated that his cousin had added fecal matter to his already urine soaked trousers. Dudley's tear filled eyes stared up at him. "W-what.. What was t-that?"

Harry sighed, letting his battle ready state fade. "Dementors, Dud. Nasty things. I don't know why someone hasn't wiped them all out." He hauled him to his feet. "Can you walk?"

"I-I think?"

A gesture had the fire dying down to nothing. He turned to take Dudley home, only to see Mrs. Figg standing there. "Don't put your wand away, Harry. There might be more."

He raised an eyebrow. Huh. She knew about magic. One of Dumbledore's people? It would make sense to have observers nearby, though he'd never have pegged her for a Turk. "That would be more of a concern if I had used my wand to dispatch them. If you'll excuse me, we must be getting back to the house."

He left her standing there, gaping, as he pulled Dudley along.

Arriving back at the Dursley's was a hassle in and of itself. The so-called adult portion of the family was trying to pin the blame for Dudley's state on him. He wasn't going to have it, but he knew that raising his voice would get him nothing except a sore throat. A flick of his wrist and a Stop spell held them silent and immobile. "I did not cause Dudley's condition. Had I not been with him tonight, you would have a son missing a soul. As for taking him to the hospital, it is not necessary. All he needs is a bath and some chocolate."

He turned to take Dudley upstairs, but paused to look back. "The spell should wear off in a few minutes. I suggest that you don't attempt anything. This is me being nice."

He had just managed to feed his cousin some chocolate and persuade him to bathe alone when he noticed the first of many owls at the window. A quick glance at the contents of the letter it carried was enough to make him chuckle. He didn't use his wand or any form of magic that they were familiar with, and the only people who saw were in the know. Not that he'd fight them on it. If they took his wand, they'd discover just what he could do without one.

A few minutes later, he had collected a stack of parchment from the Ministry, Dumbledore and others. He rolled his eyes at Dumbledore's loopy writing. Don't go anywhere? Like he was safe here? The events of the evening did seem to have proven otherwise.

Still, if he could survive Shin-Ra's Science Department, he could survive here for a little longer.

He checked on Dudley one last time, who seemed much better for the chocolate, and retired to his room. He secured the door, propping the rickety desk chair under the handle. It wouldn't do much to deter a wizard or an angry Vernon, but it would at least give him enough warning to be armed and ready. He settled – above the worn blanket as he'd discovered that he overheated much more easily these days – on the creaky bed and let his eyes drift shut.

It felt like seconds later that he opened his eyes. His senses, however, indicated that it was much later than that. The house and the houses around them were quiet. His enhanced hearing picked up few noises other than the meanderings of nighttime creatures. The window was open, though it had been closed when he dozed off. There was a breeze, warm and slightly damp, drifting across him. His nose... caught the scent of smoke and apples?

He turned his head. Sitting cross-legged on the desk, as the chair was unavailable, was a figure in a red coat. Medium-length ginger hair framed a delicate face. A red-bladed, basket hilted claymore rested on the man's knees. In his hand was an half-eaten apple. A Golden Delicious, if Harry wasn't mistaken. The man took another bite, humming in pleasure.

"Genesis."

Juice-moistened lips tugged up in a smirk. "Sephiroth."

He nearly groaned, recognizing the playful side of his oldest friend. Then, he realized that Genesis – _Genesis_ – was alive, healthy and sitting in his room. Genesis Rhapsodos, drama queen and swordsman, was sitting on his desk. He was alive to be mischievous. He was breathing. Gaia and Chaos, he was even happy to hear him chew!

Sephiroth had never been one for physical displays of affection. That was probably because touch was a bad thing to anyone raised as an experiment. Harry, on the other hand, had been starved of almost any touch – good or bad – until he'd met the Weasley family. One summer with Molly was enough to cure anyone of that aversion. She handed out hugs like stock brokers passed out cards.

"Oof!" Genesis' arms flailed a bit as Harry latched onto him. He barely managed to keep his apple and Rapier – his sword – from falling to the floor. Thin but steel-strong bands tightened around the red-headed SOLDIER. His face was buried in soft, silver hair and the scent of ice and leather overwhelmed his sense of smell.

Harry was shocked and more than a little embarrassed. On one hand, he'd desperately wanted to hug the man. On the other, this was something that the two of them had never – ever – done. He'd never seen Angeal and Genesis come in contact beyond the occasional pat on the back and they'd known each other far longer than he'd known them.

Nurse each other through Mako poisoning after injections? Sure. Have banter-laced arguments while showering in the SOLDIER barracks after a particularly strenuous workout? Of course, if they couldn't argue then there was something wrong. But hug? If they'd made a list of embarrassing actions, that would probably have been at the top of it. It didn't help that he had no idea how to extricate himself now that he was there.

He dropped his arms and backed away like he was burned, searching for something to say. He wanted to scream, to cry, to fall to his knees and thank all the Greater and Lesser deities that Genesis was here. He did none of these things. "That apple is not a Banora White."

Genesis, still wide-eyed, recovered enough to snort. "There are no more Banora Whites."

"You must have been heartbroken." He settled back on his bed and shot the man a teasing grin. "I still don't know what you saw in them."

"I'll have you know, O Great General Sephiroth, that they were the finest example of apple that ever existed." Even Genesis couldn't hold the offended look for long. They both broke out in quiet laughter.

Harry got himself under control and smiled. "It's Harry, now. Harry Potter."

Genesis paused in thought for a moment, then shook his head. His vivid blue eyes had a teasing glint to them. "No. I cannot bring myself to call you by something so plebeian. Though, I do like the new accent. It adds an element of class that you were always missing."

Harry sighed. "You are impossible. You do know that, Gen?"

One red eyebrow raised at the new nickname, but he let it slide. "If that were the case, then I would not exist. As it is, the evidence is right in front of you."

He groaned. "How did you get out of the Lifestream, anyway?..." His eyebrows drew together. "Come to think of it, I don't remember ever seeing you there."

Genesis shrugged. "I wasn't. I... Well, it was an odd sort of stasis. I broke out of it briefly, for a time, but re-entered it when I discovered that I wasn't needed. I've only been awake for a few months now – just after midwinter, I believe."

"How did you find me?"

Genesis smiled. "During the stasis, the majority of the JENOVA cells were purged from my body. I still retain the powers I gained from them, however. That includes the ability to sense anyone with Her cells in them. I was curious to see if I was the only one, so I looked for the strongest concentration of them that I could find and came to investigate."

Harry frowned. "Are there any others?"

"It's hard to explain. I imagine that you're sensing it, too." He cocked his head. "There are... patches that are coming together and then separating. It's like someone – or several someones – are trying to return."

Harry nodded. "Good to know I'm not the only one feeling it. There are fluctuations in the Lifestream that support that, too. I wonder who's coming..."

A creak sounded through the house and both froze. Harry would know that noise anywhere. Their conversation had woken Uncle Vernon. His sleep-roughened shout echoed down the hallway. "BOY!"

He winced and looked at Genesis. "You should go. It's going to take forever to calm him down."

The Crimson Commander shook his head doubtfully. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay and handle him?"

Harry snorted. "No thanks. I don't need whatever stupidity he'll come up with in regards to a strange man in my room at this time of night. Though, if you were here to murder me, he might just be willing to help. We'll talk later. Meet me tomorrow in the park down the street."

Genesis nodded and fled through the open window. Harry took a deep breath, let it out and went to deal with his Uncle.

* * *

In a darkened forest, Voldemort tossed the last of the required ingredients in a giant cauldron. It was an odd recipe, old and quite likely to leave him with a hideous appearance. Still, it would increase his power by at least a factor of ten, even if it didn't counter the blood protection Evans had left on her son. Judging by the last encounter with the Potter boy, he would need the boost in casting strength.

He lifted the deteriorating hand of the possessed muggle to turn the page in the potions book. He reviewed it carefully - Nundu Saliva for disease immunities, Dementor bone for the fear effect, Dragon Scale for spell resistance and power, Fertile Earth because he wanted to have at least the possibility of an heir, and the Blood from his remaining followers to bind their families, make him heir to their lines and provide a human body. All the ingredients were properly prepared and added. The potion was the correct color and consistency. He was ready.

He stepped back and sucked the remaining life force from the body he was in. It collapsed to the ground and he floated up from it, only to dive into the blood-colored potion. He shrieked as it burned through him, feeling as if his very soul were caught in the fires of hell. A few moments and an eternity later, he rose from the cauldron.

He stepped out and onto the hard-packed earth, naked and sparing not even a glance for the corpse just a few feet away. He felt energized, alive in a way that he'd forgotten was possible. A wave of his hand had a mirror conjured to his left. His lips curved at the idea of never again needing a wand.

He investigated himself. Human in shape, he showed evidence of far more muscle than he'd had in his first life. His skin was fish-belly gray. His eyes were now an almond or feline shape, though they were still his distinctive blood-red. Delicate eyebrows arched gracefully above them, adding the finishing touch to his now fine-boned face.

He had raven hair on his head and in the appropriate locations on his body. Where he didn't have hair, there was a scale pattern on his skin. Closer examination revealed this to be pigmentation, not actual scales. Small, delicate-seeming claws graced his hands and feet. His gaze was drawn to his upper thighs and he chuckled at the size enhancement to a certain part of his anatomy that he had previously found... lacking. Feeling something sharp, he drew his upper lip back to reveal his lengthened incisors and canines.

A nearby squirrel caught his attention and he stiffened. His eyes glowed slightly and he opened his mouth. He sucked _something_ in and the squirrel dropped to the ground, even as more power flooded his system. He blinked down at the dead creature for a few moments before smiling wickedly. _Well, this is interesting... I wonder what else I can do..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said at the end of SPGOF, this is going to have slower updates. I'm only halfway through typing the second chapter, and I want to make it perfect for you. So, please, be patient with me. This is going to be quite a bit longer, so I'm going to aim for weekly updates this time.
> 
> And, really, Harry gets a power up and no one suspected that I would give one to Voldie? A Hero needs a Villain that tests his limits, after all...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer**
> 
> If I owned this, I wouldn't write it for free.
> 
> **Note**
> 
> This chapter was going to be longer – yes, I said longer – but I got a bad tooth pulled and I can barely bring myself to do anything at the moment. I don't think that the dentist gave me a decent painkiller, much less a good one. At any rate...
> 
> **Amazing Things**
> 
> Over 4000 hits for GOF, almost 700 for OotP. 7 C2s, more than 60 favorites and followers... Wow. I am in awe.

# Two

The sun was high in the sky when Harry finally made it to the park. Genesis was sitting on the back of a bench, his feet on the seat. He had an apple in hand and was paging slowly through a tattered copy of Loveless. Harry shoved his hands in the pockets of his oversized jeans and smiled. Genesis never changed. "Good afternoon."

Genesis looked up, then tucked the book in one of his coat pockets. "Sephiroth. This place is truly dreary." He looked around. "I didn't think anywhere was more depressing than Midgar."

Harry chuckled. "At least there's grass. I rather like that."

Genesis nodded. "I still remember you lamenting the lack of green in Midgar. What was it you said? 'Proof that humans existed to destroy?'"

"Hmm." Harry's eyes zoned out as memories unfurled. "I hated those days. Now I rather miss them."

Genesis frowned and his eyes became shuttered. "Angeal..."

"Indeed." Harry shook off the approaching depression. "Do you suppose he's trying to re-form?"

"It's possible."

"We can hope." Harry grinned. "As you always quoted at us, 'Even if the morrow is barren of promises...'"

"'Nothing shall forestall my return.'" Genesis smiled at him.

Harry plopped himself down on the park bench next to Genesis' feet. He leaned his head on the man's knee, amused at the clearly broadcast surprise – both in scent and muscle tension. "So, what do you have planned for the rest of the summer? For that matter, where are you sleeping at night?"

Genesis took a bite of his apple, a Macintosh today, and chewed for a moment. "I don't have much by way of plans. As for sleeping, there's an abandoned warehouse several miles to the south of here. It's warm enough to suffice for the moment and there is an emergency shower inside that still has water access, though there's no heat for the water."

"Hm." Harry thought for a moment. That really wasn't acceptable. He wouldn't let any of his men suffer under those conditions inside a city, let alone one of his oldest friends. He looked up at the redhead. "Let's go to London. I can get you some local cash and I know an excellent place to stay."

"As you will, General."

Harry laughed at Genesis' teasing smile. "I have missed you so much, my friend."

* * *

It didn't take them long to slip into Gringott's and then set Genesis up with a room at the Leaky Cauldron. Whether it was due to his slotted materia or an innate ability of some sort, the Crimson Commander was able to see through the muggle repelling wards on the building. Harry was relieved, as that made things a bit easier. He spent the afternoon filling Genesis in on the changes to the world and detailing the majority of his future itinerary, such as Hogwarts in the fall.

Genesis was certain that he'd have no trouble finding Hogsmeade, since he'd just follow the echo of Harry's JENOVA cells.

By the time Harry returned to Privet Drive, it was almost the Dursleys' bedtime. He didn't complain about having spent the day away from them. They seemed pleased by it as well. In fact, his Aunt and Uncle seemed more disappointed at his having returned than anything else.

Dudley, on the other hand, seemed grateful that he was back. The reason for this quickly became apparent. The next day, when the boy wanted to go out, he demanded that Harry stay with him the entire time. He told his parents that it was so he could 'keep an eye on the freak.' Harry was well aware that he was just scared to go out alone.

Harry felt a small stab of sympathy and a bit of remorse, as Dudley's fear was partially his fault. So, he didn't call him on it. Instead, he placed himself at his cousin's disposal for the day. In return, Dudley kept his friends from accosting him. Whether that was for Harry's safety or theirs was highly debatable.

The day passed in a mix of amusement at the thwarted bullies and boredom. Dudley's activities were hardly able to be classified as interesting. Especially since the rotund boy stopped himself from doing anything that Harry might disapprove of. Harry wondered if it was possible to shape his cousin's personality into something more socially acceptable, but he dismissed the thought. Vernon would no doubt put a stop to any attempts to do so the moment his back was turned.

They returned home and he escaped to his room, having eaten with Dudley while they were out. He lay on his bed and stared aimlessly at the ceiling. There wasn't much else to do. It wasn't like he could practice his sword forms in the cramped area, and he wasn't certain enough of his return to Hogwarts to waste his time studying wanded magic. Instead, he meditated and focused in on the Jenova cells he could sense.

There were at least two large clusters, possibly more, that were in the process of forming into functional bodies. He couldn't tell who it was, but one mass was large enough to possibly become Angeal. The other was the right mass to be Cloud, Zack or any number of SOLDIER Seconds or Thirds. He gave a frustrated growl at his inability to narrow it down further.

A disquieting thought occurred and he promised that he would send Hojo back to the Lifestream himself. If it was him, that is.

One of the Dursleys – Vernon this time – banged on his door to announce they were leaving and not to get up to any funny stuff. The lock turned and Harry shrugged. It wasn't like he couldn't escape if he really wanted to. A flimsy door was no barrier to someone of his talents.

He stared at the ceiling for a few more moments, listening to the noises of the family leaving. He closed his eyes again and slipped into some of the Wutaian meditations that had always calmed and centered him in the past. _Water quenches the thirst of wood. Wood fuels the fire. Fire creates earth. Earth bears metal. Metal carries water... Water extinguishes fire. Fire melts metal. Metal slices wood. Wood controls earth. Earth absorbs water..._

Hours later, he honestly couldn't tell just how many, he heard a crashing noise on the first floor. It was swiftly followed by muttered curses. His eyes snapped back open. He wasn't certain if it was burglars or wizards. Still, it was best to be prepared. Silent movements carried him to the door. A twitch of his left hand had a spell prepared – Confu, an underestimated magic that frequently made enemies turn upon each other. He waited...

The lock turned, but he stayed his hand as a familiar scent accosted his nose. It was wild, untamed and raging. It was calm, wrapped in leather bound books and parchment. He let the spell dissipate and stepped back. Whoever they were, Remus Lupin was with them and didn't smell like he'd been coerced.

The first through the door was 'Mad-Eye' Moody. Harry's nose twitched, but there was no scent of Polyjuice. There was... _Firewhiskey and prunes? What an interesting combination._ The old Auror's eye twirled restlessly in his socket as he half stomped, half-dragged his wooden leg across the floor.

After him, was Lupin, his graying brown hair framed his lined face and almost matched his worn second-hand robes. He looked well. Harry knew that was just because it was the halfway point between Full Moons. In two weeks, the werewolf would be miserable again.

Behind Lupin was a girl – woman – wearing a Weird Sisters shirt. Her hair was not designed to stand out, though it changed even as he watched. As did her eye color and the shape of her features – just slightly. _Hm. A metamorph of some sort._

"Auror Moody. Professor Lupin. Lovely lady." Her hair changed to a blushing pink at his greeting, matching her face. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit after no communication all summer?"

Lupin smirked in amusement, even as the woman muttered that her name was 'Tonks.'

Moody just huffed. "I wasn't your professor, Potter. I didn't even get to teach one class, remember? As it is, we're here to get you out of here."

Harry shook his head. "So, you come by night like thieves. Worse yet, you sneak into the home of a man that has spent the last several months pondering his safety in the wake of an attempt on his life. Did it occur to none of you that it might be a good idea to let me know you were coming? Or at least to knock?"

Moody shook his head. "Operational security..."

Harry cut him off. "...is only maintained so long as I didn't hex you - thereby alerting the Ministry – or put a blade in your gut – thereby killing you. If I hadn't realized you were here and recognized the scent of Professor Lupin, you would have deserved everything you received."

Moody's remaining eye sharpened. "Scent?"

Harry huffed. "Some of us don't drown our senses in Firewhiskey and prune juice." Moody stepped back a half-step in shock, nearly tripping over one of Dudley's old toys. Harry turned to Lupin. "Let me gather my things and we can be gone in a few minutes."

They watched in silence as he did so. Remus took it upon himself to help him. Moody stood by and pondered the boy's unnaturally good senses while Tonks shot her mentor amused glances. So much for Constant Vigilance!

His things gathered, Harry scrubbed a hand across his face upon realizing that they wanted to use brooms – brooms! – to travel to where ever they were going. "Brooms. You're trying to hide me from magical attack and you want to use magical transport?"

Tonks blinked at him. "Yeah...?"

He resisted the urge to tear his hair out. "Have _none_ of you ever heard of renting a car?"

Moody shot him a glare, but otherwise ignored him. Tonk's and Lupin's amusement was palpable as they climbed on their brooms and took off. Harry spent the majority of the ride wishing that he'd insisted on taking a cab. Though it was a fairly warm summer night, it was freezing being on a broom at high speeds. Even his own innate resistance – inherited from his life as Sephiroth – couldn't negate the biting feel. All it could do was ensure that he wouldn't succumb to frostbite. He was thankful for that, as he knew what frostbite could do to the human body. He just wished his resistances could do more.

_How did I walk across the Great Glacier bare chested again? Oh, right. I was insane... At this rate, I'm going to pop my wing and fly that way. At least then, I'll be getting enough exercise to warm me up a bit!_

After many inexplicable zigs and zags and a few snarked out words between his guides, they landed on soft grass across from a row of houses. He shifted his broom from hand to hand, flexing his fingers to restore circulation in the wake of his tight grip on the handle. The human body was not intended to fly for two hours at upwards of one hundred miles per hour. Especially not without taking any breaks.

A piece of paper was shoved into his hand and he was ordered to read it. He did so, noting the words 'Order of the Phoenix,' then looked up at the row of houses. Number ten and number fourteen were clearly visible. Not so, number twelve. He cocked his head and watched as number twelve slowly appeared after he thought about it. "Interesting magic."

"Hmph." Moody almost ripped the paper out of his hands and set it on fire. Harry just eyed him for a moment at the minor bout of pyromania and let them lead him inside.

He waited until the door was closed before he spoke. "What's the Order of the Phoenix?"

Tonks started to answer, but was cut off by the approaching Molly Weasley. Before he could blink twice, Harry found himself upstairs with Ron and Hermione. They were babbling greetings and apologies at him. He was too busy contemplating Ron's mother and whether or not she was a hidden WEAPON of some sort. She could be wind or sonic-elemental, if her howlers were anything to go by. She certainly had the 'relentless' part of the job description down pat.

He suddenly realized that the room had gone quiet. He looked at his two companions. Hermione was huffy and Ron seemed amused. "Back with us, mate?"

"Indeed. Care to explain why I received no letters by owl, or regular mail? Or, perhaps, a phone call?"

Ron scratched the back of his head. "Dumbledore made us swear not to tell you anything."

"Oh. He did, did he?" Harry took a seat on the only neatly-made bed in the room. "Did he say why?"

Hermione, realizing that he might – just might – be angry at the lack of communication, hesitantly spoke. "He was afraid of it being intercepted?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Is that a question or an answer, Hermione?"

She blinked at him, then straightened. She was getting the same feeling she used to get around her stricter teachers in primary. "An answer."

He nodded in acceptance. "So, when did Voldemort start recruiting muggle postmen and telephone technicians?"

Hermione felt sheepish, but wasn't about to let him make her feel guilty quite that easily. "He could have imperio'd the postman."

"And the telephone technicians?"

"Maybe..." She sat down on Ron's bed, heavily. "Oh, Harry... You're right, I could have attempted to use a muggle telephone while I was with my parents. But, they haven't let us out of the house since we got here, there isn't a phone in the house, and they won't let us use the owls."

He smiled, just slightly, but enough to show that her answer was acceptable. "Very well, then. I will assume that none of the incompetents that they had following me at Privet Drive were able – or willing – to pass on a message, either."

Ron blinked at him. "You knew they were there? How? They had cloaks and stuff."

Harry smirked. "I have my ways." _Scent and hearing, my friend. Especially when one of your guards spends half his time drunk._ "Whose house is this?"

Ron sat down next to Hermione. "Black's, mate. And it's a mess. Mum has us cleaning almost constantly. No time to ourselves except for homework."

Harry frowned. There was no way that he was going to spend the rest of his vacation cleaning. If he'd wanted to be treated like a servant or a slave, then he would have stayed at the Dursleys. He raised his voice slightly. "Dobby, Winky, would you join us please?"

Dobby, once the house elf of Lucius Malfoy, appeared almost instantly. Winky, Barty Crouch Senior's dismissed and – in her opinion – disgraced house elf, took a few extra moments to show up. She swayed drunkenly. Dobby was the first to speak. "Great Harry Potter, Sir, what can we's be helping you with?"

Harry slid off the bed and onto the floor, putting his head at Dobby's eye level. "I want to give my godfather a present, Dobby. Could I pay you and Winky to clean this house?"

Winky broke in. "Winky is a proper house elf! Winky doesn't be wanting payings!"

Harry glanced over at Hermione. "What do you want, Winky?"

The elf's tear-filled eyes looked up at him. She hiccuped a few times, then managed to force out. "I's be wanting to belong to a family again."

"B-but that's slavery!" Hermione was aghast.

Harry leaned back against the mattress behind him. She wasn't wrong. Harry had the feeling that there was more to it, however. "Is there a particular reason that a house elf wants to belong to a family, Winky? Dobby?"

Dobby spoke. "Oh, yes, Harry Potter, sir. We's be living longer when we's bonded."

Hermione had been getting ready to speak, but her mouth closed with an audible click. Harry couldn't help a slight smile. "How much longer, Dobby?"

"Years and yearses longer." The little elf nodded his head so quickly that Harry was surprised that it didn't pop off. He pretended not to notice Hermione's eyes widening in horror at the thought of the deaths she had inadvertently tried to bring about.

"So, why didn't either of you bond to Hogwarts?" He was genuinely curious. Hogwarts should have been more than enough to satisfy their needs.

"Winky doesn't want to belongs to anything but a proper family and I's be..." Dobby trailed off in apparent embarrassment. Harry gestured for him to continue and the house elf ducked his head shyly. "Dobby wants to be bonded to the Great Harry Potter."

Winky wailed and sobbed into her tea towel. He couldn't be sure precisely what she was saying – her voice was too muffled even for him. If he had to guess, though, she was lamenting Dobby's behavior and her own disgraced status.

Harry shook his head and eyed his little friend. He wasn't sure he wanted to be bonded to any house elf. He was even less sure that he wanted to be bonded to one that had broken his arm, even if it was supposedly for his own good. Still... He did like the little guy and he didn't want him dead. "All right, Dobby. How do I bond you?"

Dobby smiled and Harry felt something snap into place. It was an odd link. It reminded him a little of the JENOVA connection that he had taken over. He could easily dominate them completely through it, though he had no interest in doing so. "Accepting is all that is needing to be done, Master Harry Potter, sir."

He noticed Winky looking at him with tentative hope and sighed. In for a penny... "Winky, if you want me to bond you... then I accept."

He ignored Hermione making inarticulate noises. He knew it would take her a few minutes to process that her view of house elf slavery had been a lie. Maybe now she would focus on treatment standards instead of forcing them to her way of life. He could hope, at least. "Now, would you two be so kind as to get this house looking clean?"

Ron broke in before they could vanish. "There might be a problem with that... Kreature."

Harry looked at him. "Who – or what – is Kreature?"

Ron winced. "The Black family house elf. He's a right piece of work, keeps muttering about mudbloods and blood traitors every time we see him. He hasn't done a lick of work around here, except to hide some of the rubbish we're trying to get rid of."

Harry turned back to the house elves. "Can you take care of yourself if he tries to stop or hurt you?"

They nodded. "Yes, sir, Master Harry Potter, sir."

"I'll leave it to your discretion, then." He nodded at them. "Don't forget to take breaks. Overworking yourselves will just make the job take longer and lead to mistakes."

The little ones bowed and vanished, leaving him alone in the room with his friends. He turned back to them. "So, what is the Order of the Phoenix and what else have I missed?"

They filled him in quickly, explaining that the Order claimed to be an anti-Voldemort group. Their workings were secret, however, so his friends weren't be sure how they fulfilled that function. Ron filled him in on the Ministry's refusal to acquit Sirius, in spite of Pettigrew being in custody. They had him listed as 'an unknown wizard' and Fudge wouldn't let them break out the Veritaserum.

Harry was not amused.

Hermione gave him a quick overview of the Prophet's attempts to make him look unbalanced. Harry wasn't surprised. If the Ministry didn't want him to be heard, then they would do their best to discredit him. He did have to wonder why they still weren't trying to pin the murder of so many upstanding purebloods on him. He supposed he would find out eventually.

Mrs. Weasley summoned them down to dinner, and they headed for the stairs. They reached the landing just in time to see various Order members leaving. Harry didn't know all of them, but he did his best to commit their faces to memory. If they were on his side, supposedly, he shouldn't accidentally kill one the next time he was in combat. He frowned, but decided to reserve judgment on Snape. At least, he would reserve judgment for the moment...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, he knows Voldie is still around. Remember, last story he told the shade that he would see him again. He just doesn't know what Voldie has done, yet.
> 
> I also want to comment/clarify a few things... 
> 
> On pairings – I am not setting up a pairing in this particular story. If I manage to keep Voldie alive long enough, I will consider it starting at around his sixteenth year. At the moment, Harry is well aware that he is in the middle of fighting a war and just barely fifteen. He knows better than to make life-altering decisions about his future mate – if there is one – at this point.
> 
> About his interactions with Genesis – This is one of only two friends he had in his first lifetime. Genesis is alive, healthy, and right in front of him. The last Sephiroth knew, he was slowly dying as the cells of his body aged prematurely. 
> 
> Sephiroth was never comfortable with physical contact and avoided it when possible. Harry, on the other hand, has had some. Still, he has seldom - if ever - come in physical contact with an unrelated male. He has all the insecurities of any teenage boy in that regard. Those insecurities include wondering about sexuality – both others' preferences and his own.
> 
> In short: adult Sephiroth + teenage Harry + immense relief + elation = a hug + teenage awkwardness. (And some amusement value for us.)
> 
> He feels safe with Genesis, so he will slowly start exploring and experimenting with the more socially acceptable forms of contact between friends. He's consciously trying to set aside the fear of contact that the lab experiences – and the Dursleys – have caused. He sees Gen as a fairly safe person to make that attempt with. (He's also finding that shocking Gen is a lot of fun!) He might want to explain that to Gen, though, before he gets the wrong idea...
> 
> About sensory input – They have enhanced senses and are trained SOLDIERs. That means that they are going to notice things that others would not. They fought together for years. That means that they knew each other inside out and cared for each other in ways that civilians will not. In addition, the effectiveness of any military unit is greatly impacted by the health and welfare of even a single member. Each will pick up on non-verbal cues such as scent, posture and micro expressions. Even the most subtle tone of voice will be used to give some clue as to what the other needs or is feeling about a particular situation.
> 
> About showering together – As recently as a decade ago (when my husband went through Navy boot at Great Lakes), most barracks in boot camp had shared showers. In other words, a long room with shower heads on the walls. There is little or nothing between as a barrier for privacy. I can't see Shin-Ra going to more effort on the expense than our modern military, even for SOLDIERs. Did General Sephiroth have his own room and shower? Of course, he was a General. But, why end a conversation you may be enjoying when you can just tag along to the barracks? Especially if you have no insecurities and/or issues with nudity?
> 
> About his personality - Being raised in a laboratory as an experiment does not lend itself to any sense of entitlement when it comes to personal privacy. Think about it as a 24/7 exam by a doctor who could care less that you might not want to be poked and prodded at his whim. He would be used to being clinically examined by others. His audience may have been just Hojo, or it might have included a bunch of interns and other scientists. He would be very used to obeying their orders. He would have had to obey even when the order led to pain or seemed pointless. His opinions/feelings would have carried the same weight as those of a lab rat. This is not a healthy environment and has no doubt caused mental scars that I haven't even begun to touch on...
> 
> At the same time, keep in mind that we have two not-quite-separate personalities involved. Sephiroth is Harry and Harry is Sephiroth. His reactions are sometimes going to lean more towards one life or the other, and sometimes be a mix of the two. It just depends on the situation.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer**
> 
> _If it were mine, this wouldn't be free._
> 
> **Note**
> 
> _Certain bits of dialogue in this chapter are taken directly from the book. Where I've remembered, I've marked it with an asterisk (*). Most of it is not, however. I think I actually only used one line, now that I look at it..._
> 
> _There is some mild reprimanding of Molly Weasley. This isn't to be construed as bashing – it's more like reminding her that some things simply aren't her responsibility. Also, Ginny makes an appearance. For those who might think I'm bashing her... Having been a fourteen year old girl, we do obsess over our crushes like this at that age. It's not a psychological disorder (yet? maybe?), it's a girl thing._

# Three

Tonks, on her way out of the door, tripped over the umbrella stand in the dusty hallway. The sheepish Auror picked herself up, but the noise was enough to wake the dead. Or, in this case, the painting in the hallway. "Mudbloods! Blood traitors! Disgracing the House of Black!"

Sirius took the stairs two at a time, then wrestled the curtains that covered the painting closed. Finally, the harridan was silent and the curtains stilled. He turned to face the group on the landing and smiled. "Hello, Harry. I see you've met my mother."*

Harry found himself grinning and shook his head. "Lovely woman, for a banshee with the tact and subtlety of a nuclear war. Tell me, are you terribly attached to her?"

Sirius blinked. "Not particularly, but she has a permanent sticking charm on the frame. We can't get her off the wall to be rid of her."

Harry's grin turned wicked. "So... You wouldn't mourn the loss of the portrait?"

Sirius shook his head, and Harry clenched his hand around the suddenly appearing Masamune. "Well then, allow me."

The ex-prisoner gaped at the sword, then stepped away from the portrait. Harry flicked the curtains open with the tip of his katana and smiled at the woman inside. She opened her mouth to speak, only to screech in horrified rage as the blade made four quick slices. The canvas peeled away from the frame and fell to the floor, her voice now muffled by the floorboards.

Those who could see what was going on – his friends, Sirius and the few remaining Order members in the foyer – stared in shock as he dropped Masamune. As usual, it vanished before it hit the floor. Harry casually rolled up the canvas and handed it to Sirius with an evil smile. "I'll leave it up to you to dispose of this. Though, I would suggest burning or paint thinner."

Sirius just nodded, still trying to understand how they'd missed such a simple solution.

It was at that point that Kreacher decided to express his own opinion. With a scream of rage, the house elf came flying down the hallway – rusty butcher knife in hand – towards Harry. The others didn't have time to think, much less react. Harry, on the other hand, was used to running on instinct.

A twitch of Harry's fingers had Kreacher's forward momentum slowed to a crawl. In a single motion, he casually plucked the knife out of the house elf's grip and grabbed him by the back of the neck with the other hand. He tossed the knife to the floor and shook the elf gently. "One, never broadcast your attacks. You leave yourself vulnerable. Two, take better care of your weapons. I doubt that thing is still sharp enough to be called a knife. Three, plan your battles more carefully. Assaulting a superior opponent from the front is suicide. Do you understand me, elf?"

Kreacher, in shock from his failed attempt, nodded in what should have been a frantic movement. Thanks to the slow spell, it appeared almost contemplative. Harry dropped him. "Good. I expect your next attempt to have more thought behind it."

Kreacher slunk away to sulk in his nest, for once not even muttering about the people in the house. He was already mentally plotting how to get the 'mean halfblood brat.' Part of the elf was regretful that bad Master Sirius wasn't as cold as the boy. He had the earmarks of a dark pureblood, even if he was tainted. It was too bad he was a half blood.

Meanwhile, Sirius blinked at Harry. The last few minutes had strained his limited ability to process his environment. "His 'next attempt?'"

Harry shrugged. "If you'd prefer, I could decapitate him. However, if I did that, he'd never learn." He started down the stairs. "Food is this way, correct?"

Feeling more than a little unsettled, Molly led the way. She stopped dead in the door and there was a bit of noise as some – mostly Ron – made their objections to the blockade known. After all, if they couldn't get in the kitchen then they couldn't eat. Ron's thoughts didn't always center around food, sometimes it was sleep or female companionship, but at the moment he was hungry and expressed that fact rather loudly.

Molly was, for once, to distracted to care.

She was finally nudged aside by Sirius, who made it only a few steps in before coming to an abrupt halt. His jaw slowly made its way towards his chest as his eyes widened almost beyond anatomical possibility. "W-what happened in here?"

The kitchen was spotless. Not a speck of dirt marred the floor or walls. The wallpaper looked freshly installed, the wood and metal was polished to a high shine and there were lacy bistro curtains on the only window. The food had been moved from the counters and was sitting in the middle of the table, ready to eat. Arthur Weasley was sitting at said table with another disreputable person that was smoking a pipe and staring in shock at an ashtray that had materialized next to him.

Arthur was the only one to respond. "Two house elves just appeared, cleaned, laid out the food and the china, then vanished."

Harry managed to alter his smile so that it appeared happy instead of wickedly amused. "Happy House-Warming, Sirius."

Sirius blinked at him. "Harry?"

"Mm. I arrived and saw what a terrible state the house was in. When Ron told me that you were going to be living here for a prolonged period of time... Well, I know there are all sorts of diseases that can be gotten by living in filth, so I asked Dobby and Winky to take care of it as a gift to you. They were most eager."

He kept his expression happy and sincere only through supreme effort of will. Part of him wanted to cackle evilly at circumventing Molly Weasley's attempt to keep all of her children busy. Not because he saw anything wrong with children doing chores, per se... He just didn't think it was healthy to force them to clean the accumulated grime of more than a decade. Hermione would have asserted that they had breaks for homework, but he didn't see that as a true break.

He'd learned the hard way that people needed to rest – mind and body – or they snapped.

Molly tried to explain that the house would have been perfectly clean very shortly, and that paying the two house elves to do it was a waste of money. There were quite a few ways that Harry could think of to counter that argument. He didn't think that telling her that their time was worth the expense would work, since she no doubt was of the opinion that they were children and therefore their frivolous activities weren't that important or valuable. He could have told her that his godfather was worth the money for the gift. He could have pointed out any number of other reasons, and he was sure that Hermione – if she had been inclined to object in the first place – would have backed him up on the immorality of using child labor in what was a potentially dangerous, disease ridden, environment.

He felt the truth was better, though. "Mrs. Weasley, if I had been inclined to spend the rest of the summer as a slave, I would have stayed with the Dursleys. I've only been one there my entire life – unless you think that it's normal for a five year old to be cooking breakfast on his own? I doubt it but, if you do, we need to have a serious discussion about child welfare and legal advances in this century."

Her took advantage of her shock to continue, not letting her get her bearings long enough to lay into him. "In any case, it is my money. If I want to hire help or purchase a present for my godfather, then that is my business. I do consider you as a maternal figure, but you are not, in fact, my mother. In spite of Lily Potter being dead, I am not now – nor will I ever – be taking applications for the position.

"Besides, I didn't hire them. I bonded them. That means that all this is costing me is the duty to look out for two friends that I would have taken care of anyway." He settled into a seat at the foot of the table and eyed them all for a moment. He had to admit, he'd forgotten how much fun it was to shock people into silence. That was usually something Genesis did, but he had always enjoyed watching the spectacle. "Weren't we going to eat?"

Slowly, the others settled into chairs. Hermione was on his left and Ron on his right. It was a subtle show of support that he was sure the others missed. Sirius had taken the head of the table, as was his privilege – it was his house, after all. The others were arrayed in no particular order.

The twins kept eying Hermione, no doubt waiting for her to launch into her SPEW nonsense. Arthur's hand kept resting on Molly's knee every time she started to speak. She quickly subsided when he did so, something Harry was grateful for. It had taken a lot for him to stand up to her like he had, the training of both lifetimes had argued against it. Arthur seemed to have realized that this was a pivotal event for him.

Ginny just spent the time pouting that she was stuck on the other side of Ron from Harry. She wanted to spend time with him, too! How else was he supposed realize that he was in love with her? Blast it all!

Finally, dinner completed, Sirius broke the awkward silence. "Harry, what do you mean by being a slave at the Dursleys?"

Harry couldn't help the little sneer that crossed his face briefly. It vanished quickly, though, when he spotted Hermione's look of concern. His voice was clipped when he spoke, since he was trying to distance himself from it by treating his own history as a mission report. "I spent the first eleven years of my life sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs. My cousin had two bedrooms – one for his toys – and there was a guest room for Aunt Marge. So, it wasn't a matter of space.

"When I was old enough to walk, I was set to doing the chores my dexterity could handle. I don't mean just picking up after myself. I picked up after myself, Dudley, Vernon and Petunia. In addition, I was started on scrubbing floors and anything else she believed wouldn't break if I did make a mistake. If I did break something... I learned, rather quickly, that her 'playful' swipes with the cast iron frying pan were painful and that Uncle Vernon had a mean right."

He watched horror slowly start to form on their faces, but continued. Years of practice allowed him to relay precise facts as if they didn't have any emotional value to him. "My cousin was encouraged to blame anything that went wrong on me. This included anything he broke, poor grades, or economic recession. His favorite pastime involved chasing me down with his friends and beating me.

"I wasn't permitted to be better than he was in school. To this end, I had no time or supplies with which to do my homework, and – if I still managed to out-perform him – I was sent to my cupboard to think about my error. I wasn't fed during this time. It usually lasted from over night, to a few days if it was the weekend, or a few weeks if it was the summer. When I was fed, it was either the leftovers of the meal I made for them or a bit of dry toast."

He let his stern gaze settle on Molly. "There is a reason why you always think I'm too thin – I only eat full meals at your home or Hogwarts. I'm sure Dudley's oversized hand-me-downs don't help in that regard, but they refused to spend any money on clothes or other necessities for me. The closest I have had to a fitting wardrobe are the Hogwarts uniforms and the sweaters that you give me every year."

He ignored her attempt to form words. He knew that he wouldn't finish if someone interrupted him. His chest felt oddly tight. "Aunt Marge's visits were a special treat for everyone. She would happily reward her bulldog for chasing me up the nearest tree and keeping me there for most of the day. I can't count the number of times that Ripper landed a bite on my legs. The wounds, by the way, were left to heal naturally or not at all. By 'naturally,' I mean that there was no antiseptic, no creams and no bandages.

"And they weren't the only things that I received no treatment for. When Dudley broke my arm, I spent the requisite six weeks with it wrapped in an old shirt, with crooked sticks for a splint. I'm rather glad that it was summer when it happened. If I'd wound up in the hospital, I would have received quite the punishment. I went a week without food when my elementary school demanded that I get the required immunizations.

"I don't know if you realize, but the twins were not exaggerating when they told you that I was being starved. I was also locked into my room with no less than six locks. There were bars on my window and what little food I did receive was passed through a cat flap installed in the door. I was let out, once a day for a maximum of five minutes, to use the toilet and wash. There are prisons with less security than my supposed bedroom had.

"I have, thanks to the Dursleys, picked up skills that no one my age should possess. I can maintain a car, paint a house, re-tile a bathroom, sterilize a living area to the point you could perform surgery, plan and prepare an eight course meal for twelve, assemble just about anything you can buy from a store, and clear plumbing clogs all the way to the main lines.

"But, Dumbledore said that I have to go back there every summer. So, I suppose their treatment of me is both acceptable and a moot point." He looked around, his vision slightly blurry. Yep. Shocking them into silence was painful, but oddly fun. Especially when he was only telling the truth. He hadn't anticipated just how... cathartic... his revelation would be for him. He was fighting to keep tears at bay.

Harry cleared his suddenly tight throat and tried to change the subject, at least temporarily. "So, who wants dessert?"

No one spoke for a long minute. Hermione and the majority of the Weasleys looked close to erupting, a la Vesuvius. Sirius seemed torn between hugging him, killing the Dursleys, and strangling Dumbledore. Not that Harry minded any of those outcomes. Ron, though, tried to save him from having to deal with his emotions all at once. "Sure, mate. I'd love some."

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione beat Molly to the punch. "There are more important things than your stomach!"

Ron nodded. "Yep, like giving Harry a few minutes to realize and accept that he just told us all of that. So... What's for dessert, Harry?"

Every person at the table stopped and gaped at Ron, even Harry. Ron considering someone's feelings was like a scientist discovering a true Unified Theory. It just didn't happen. Harry noted the expressions on the faces around him, and the strangest feeling welled up in his chest. He hadn't ever experienced anything like it before. It was somewhere between panic and humor. His lips curled in to a smirk, then a grin. Then he was laughing so hard that he lost his balance and literally hit the floor.

The impact knocked the wind – what little there was in his chest – out of him. Still, his body kept trying to laugh. He couldn't stop, even as tears rolled out of his eyes and across his skin. He didn't understand why. The whole thing was just... ridiculous. His entire life was out of a bloody television abuse special! It made public safety announcements look tame by comparison! And that was before you even took his last life into account!

He dimly noticed the others in the room crowding him until Hermione snapped at them to back off and give him some room to breathe. A feat that he was attempting but – between his brief lack of a functioning diaphragm and his laughter – failing miserably at. Someone suggested a calming draught, but he was lifted into a sitting position and felt arms wrapping around him, instead. His already damp face was pressed up against bushy hair and suddenly, like a switch being triggered, he wasn't laughing anymore.

He would later admit – if only to himself – that Hermione gave far better hugs than Molly Weasley. He didn't feel like the stuffing was being squeezed out of him. He didn't feel trapped, as he could pull away and knew that she wouldn't be upset with him. No, he felt... free to feel. Like the offer of comfort was there and he could take her up on it or not.

As a result, he was uncontrollably sobbing into Hermione's hair in the first truly comforting hug he had received in either lifetime.

Finally, the emotional storm passed. Still, he kept his head buried in her neck. He was quite comfortable where he was, and it kept him from having to look at the others. He could feel their stares on him, and had no desire to face their expressions of disgust. He didn't care who the expression was aimed at – him or the Dursleys. It would still feel like it was him that they were disgusted by.

Hermione, at least, seemed to be in no hurry to pull away. One hand clenched his shirt tightly, while the other stroked his back firmly but soothingly. Her face was buried in his neck. Every now and then, there was a slight hitch in the breath tickling the skin there. It only took him a second to connect it to the dampness working its way down him. He'd made her cry.

He inwardly winced as a pang of guilt hit him, and gently pulled back. She resisted just slightly, but not enough to make him feel trapped. She didn't fight it when he pulled her across his lap and tucked her face back into where his neck met his shoulder. In fact, she nuzzled closer in and really started crying. He didn't know what to do.

Harry raised his eyes to see nothing but helplessness reflected back by the faces surrounding him. He didn't realize that they were reacting more to his revelation than his current predicament. He stroked a hand down her hair and back, the panicked tightness returning. He couldn't do this. He didn't know how to offer comfort, and no one was helping. His head fell back and his mind reached out, frantic. _"Genesis! Help me!"_

It felt like hours, but it was only moments later that Genesis teleported in. The commander was at full battle readiness, his sword bared and alert for potential threats. A fireball was already forming in his off hand when Harry broke his concentration. "Not them! This!"

The other inhabitants of the room were fortunate that they didn't suffer from heart disease or some other shock-triggered malady. If they had, there would have been a fatality or two. As it was, Tonks' wand had almost cleared its sheath when she realized that Harry had apparently summoned this... person?... The person that was now kneeling next to him and seemed to be speaking, though none of them could hear the words.

"You called me... for a crying girl?" Genesis sub-vocalized incredulously. The girl in question was still sniffling, and had her head leaning on Harry's shoulder. Hermione had tilted just enough to see Genesis. She didn't move any further, though, as she could tell that Harry didn't think him a threat. Her tears didn't stop completely, but they did slow as her mind started processing new information.

Harry was glad that Genesis pitched his voice so that only a SOLDIER could hear it. The question would have embarrassed him even more if he hadn't. He also lowered his voice to levels a normal human couldn't hear. "I don't know what to do."

"Comfort her." Genesis seemed to think that it was the most normal thing in the world.

"How?"

The Crimson Commander looked him over, noting the stroking hand and cuddled position. "You seem to be doing fine, General." His lips twitched at the scathing look Sephiroth shot him. "I'm serious. You're doing the only thing any man can do when a woman cries – hold on and hope that she calms down soon."

His blue eyes traveled around the room, noting again the locations of the others. "Where exactly are we? And, are these people an immediate threat?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter really smacked me around a bit. I had no intentions of this being how it ended up... I'm still not particularly happy with it. But, I've been editing it repeatedly since Last TUESDAY!_
> 
> _On the number of shocked silences... The group is suffering from a variety of things: There is surprise that Harry can pull a sword from nowhere, amazement at the simplicity of his solution to the portrait, shock over his rebuke to Molly, and – finally – horror at his childhood. Add in the Bystander Effect and you have them milling about instead of comforting or helping Harry._
> 
> _I'm personally split on whether Dumbledore knew and didn't care, planned for the abuse, or didn't believe that a family could be so cruel to their own blood. You'd think he'd have recognized the signals, especially considering his interactions with Tom Riddle, Jr. Or, perhaps not. He was born in an era when children didn't have rights and such abuses were a fact of life, almost normal. The problem with living so long is that you don't adjust to the attitudes of the times. I'd love to hear some opinions on this..._
> 
> _Meanwhile, back to Harry..._
> 
> _Sephiroth had a psychotic breakdown that resulted in the destruction of Nibelheim in his last life. In this life, he actually forced himself to confront the fact that what has happened and was still happening to him is wrong. Harry, has two lifetimes of experience in it, the memories/perspectives of an adult, emotional support from his friends, and a highly analytical mind. Instead of being left alone to descend into a murderous rage when he starts to snap again, he's immediately shown caring and compassion by a friend. The result of all this? He cannot deny the truth and he manifests a healthier expression of pain._
> 
> _In canon, he suffers from neglect, psychological/emotional abuse, and physical abuse. Thankfully, there is no mention of sexual abuse. I have no desire to write that in, either. At least not in Harry's case. He has enough on his plate in this lifetime... Some of the examinations and such that Sephiroth no doubt suffered from Hojo may have been classifiable as sexual abuse. I'm not a lawyer and the technical definition may or may not fit. No doubt, it would have a similar effect on him whether it was technically sexual abuse or not._
> 
> _The abuse I added to canon – grade punishments, etc – appear in many fan fictions. These abuses are frequently are a part of the pattern when you have the other (canon) abuses._
> 
> _Child abuse can result in delinquency, distrust of authority figures, independent or self-sufficient behaviors, self-esteem problems, poor school performance, other emotional issues such as rages and depression (and other symptoms of PTSD), immune deficiencies, impaired neurological development, and other physical health impacting, stress related issues. Many cases have an increased risk of suicide._
> 
> _If any of that sounds familiar, that's because you see Harry exhibit most of that in canon._
> 
> _As for comforting a crying Hermione... Sephiroth had no close friends that were female, and men – especially big, bad SOLDIERs – wouldn't let each other see such emotional displays. Did he spend time with women? I'm certain that he probably did, but I doubt he connected with them emotionally. He is completely lost in this situation. Genesis at least had his parents as an example of how to behave._
> 
> _Coming up: The Order is in Dis-Order, Genesis is Genesis, and the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio are curious.  
> _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer**
> 
> Own this? Me? Seriously?
> 
> **Note**
> 
> I have to share this with you – as of 8.02 AM Eastern (UTC -5) on the 17th November, including everyone from AO3 and FFN, I have:
> 
> 8682 hits, 56 Reviews, 19 C2s, 169 Favorites, 184 Followers, 1 Bookmark and 3 Kudos.
> 
> I regrettably, have to be honest and say that it was straight addition that got me to these numbers, so there are probably duplicates in the followers, favorites, etc. Still... Wow...
> 
> I'll say it again, you guys rock!

# Four

The Order members present stared in amazement at the man kneeling next to Harry, though they were slowly recovering their composure. Tonks' wand was out and aimed straight at him. Dung Fletcher had pulled out his pipe to puff on it a bit, hoping it would settle his nerves. He was slowly inching towards the back of the group so as to be out of harm's way and to provide himself easier access to the door. Molly, Arthur and Sirius had joined Tonks in preparing to blast whoever this was out of the house.

The kids, though, were taking their cues from Harry. He didn't seem worried about the new arrival. He seemed glad to see him, in fact. Hermione was still settled across Harry's lap, and more than content to stay there. She could hear his heartbeat and it had settled into a steady rhythm. He didn't seem frightened of the man at all. She gave a little sniffle, and relaxed further into his arms. Yep, nice and comfy.

Ron was wondering, given the similar hair color, if he might be a distant relation of the Weasleys or Prewitts. If this was his supposed 'accountant' relative, he and his mom were going to have to talk about what accountants really did and how he could become one. The Twins were a little more cautious, but had settled for pulling their wands out. They weren't pointing them anywhere... yet.

Ginny, on the other hand, was frowning at Hermione in Harry's lap. She was far more concerned with _her Harry_ being so close to another female. Never mind that he wasn't hers, she was certain that he would be. After all, he had saved her from the Basilisk. It was just like in a fairytale!

The red-coated man rose to his feet and raised an eyebrow at the crowd. He tossed his hair with a flick of his fingers, looking deliberately nonchalant. "Sephiroth, is there a reason that they're pointing sticks at me?"

Harry gave a watery chuckle. He felt strangely lighter for the release of his inner tensions. Genesis' presence helped a bit, as well. "They're a lot like materia, Genesis."

"Ah." Genesis cocked his head in thought. "I suppose they'd be terribly upset if I were to break them?"

"Yep. In fact, I'm pretty sure Tonks would devour your eyeballs in a red sauce. She's a feisty one, from what I can tell." The Auror in question shifted her gaze from Genesis just long enough to glare at Harry. "See what I mean? I would prefer that you not cause them harm."

"Mm." Genesis hummed in acknowledgment. "'My friend, your desire is the bringer of life, the Gift of the Goddess.'"

Harry's lips twitched. "Loveless, Act Three."

Genesis smirked at him, thoughts drifting to a happier time. "You remembered."

The twitching lips settled into a true smile. Genesis had used a different quote the first time they'd had this conversation, but it still somehow fit both their situation and their history. Given the timing of his friend's awakening, he was pretty sure Genesis' return was somehow his fault and he was asking him not to kill the people in front of him. "How could I not, when you've beaten it into my head?"

The two laughed, sharing a combination of happiness at the memory and sadness at not having Angeal to share the joke. The members of the Order eyed the two of them, wondering just why they seemed so amused. And, wondering why the bracer this 'Genesis' wore had glowing orbs in it. Some kind of artifact, perhaps?

Ron, careful not to get in front of the adult's wands, moved to Harry's side. He knelt down behind Hermione and settled one hand on her shoulder. "Harry, who is this guy?"

"An old friend, Ron." Harry lifted his hand from Hermione's back to pat his friend's arm. "A very old friend."

Genesis snorted. "I'm not that old. And, I still say that name is far too common for you."

"I rather liked it." Harry shot him a resigned look. "Until I was eleven, at least. Now, I'd rather be someone else. Again."

Genesis nodded. "A common state of affairs for you, as I recall." He turned his back on the Order members, deliberately giving them a clean shot if they wanted to try. "So, introductions?"

"Well, the waterworks in my lap is Hermione Granger..."

She lightly smacked his shoulder. "This from you, mister."

Harry smiled at her, but continued. "The red-head behind her is Ron Weasley. The twins are his brothers, Gred and Forge. Their mother over there, Molly, insists that it's actually Fred and George."

The twins grinned at his commentary as he continued, "Ginny, that's the girl standing next to Molly, is their younger sister." He looked at Genesis, widening his eyes in mock horror. "Poor girl has six brothers... Six! Can you believe it?"

Genesis shook his head in false sympathy, but said nothing. "Molly's husband, Arthur, is the one with the receding hairline. The dark haired man is my godfather, Sirius Black. The smoker hiding in the back corner, I just met tonight: Mundungus Fletcher. He goes by Dung, as I understand it."

Genesis snorted. Harry looked to the others. "This is Genesis Rhapsodos, and I trust him a hell of a lot more than I trust most of the so-called adults in this room. He, at least, offered to try and help when he saw there was a problem with my uncle... Oh, wait, he actually paid enough attention to _notice_ that there was a problem."

Faces – and wands – fell at the venom in his voice. Sirius actually went so far as to collapse into the nearest chair and bury his head in his hands. His voice was, as a result, muffled when he spoke. "I'm so sorry, Harry..."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not blaming you, you self-important mutt. You've met me a grand total of what? Three? Four times, now? And you spent more than a decade around the Dementors. I'm surprised you can still tell the floor from the ceiling, considering that experience. No, I'm blaming the ones that had the evidence and ignored it. I suppose that could exclude Dung and Tonks, too. But, as I know they spent a lot of time watching me this summer, it doesn't."

The two mentioned stared in shock that Harry had realized they were there. Genesis just quirked an eyebrow. "Your insults used to have more bite to them."

Harry lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug, a motion that Sephiroth had learned from Genesis in their last life. "I'm not really trying to insult Sirius. I rather like him."

"So, are you related to the Prewitts? Or, maybe, have a Weasley relative?" Ron finally broke in, his curiosity winning out over his desire to hear more of their banter. He really hoped so. This guy was just cool. He had an impressive sword, an earring and that coat was... wicked.

Genesis blinked. "You don't... feel like a relative, and I don't believe that I had any offspring."

Harry bit his lip in thought. "I don't know, Gen. It's been a long time. Who knows how diluted any trace of _Her_ would be."

Genesis blinked at the diminutive, then decided to let it pass. "It's possible, I suppose. Still, I doubt it. I did take precautions with my..." he hastily changed his wording, "dates."

Sephiroth was well aware that many of Genesis' 'dates' never made it to dinner or – sometimes – a proper bed. "If you say so. I would rather not have any more information from you on that topic." He smirked. "Unless you feel like sharing measurements?"

Genesis chuckled as Hermione whacked Harry's shoulder again. "And you called Tonks the feisty one?"

"I think it's the shock." Sephiroth hugged her lightly to let her know he was teasing. "She'll be her normal, uptight self again shortly." Hermione stuck her nose in the air with a huff, her amusement plain. "See?"

The four of them – including Ron – chuckled, and Harry lightly nudged Hermione's temple with his nose. "May I get up now?"

She blushed and scrambled to her feet, though she managed to refrain from babbling an apology. He had been the one to pull her into his lap, after all. "Certainly."

Harry stood and straightened his clothes. "Dobby!"

The elf appeared. "Yes, Master-Harry-Potter-Sir?"

If Genesis had been drinking at that moment, he would have choked. He came close, anyway. Harry ignored him. "Is there a room available for my friend? And..." He turned to his friend, "Genesis, have you eaten?"

"Ah... Not yet."

Harry looked at Dobby. "Can we do something about that?"

"Oh, yes, Master-Harry-Potter-Sir!" The little elf bounced happily, then turned to Genesis. "Does yous have luggage for Dobby to transport, Master Genesis, sir?"

Genesis blinked. He had no idea what this creature was, but it seemed to be similar to his family's household servants. Or, it was close enough for him to deal with. "My things are in my room at the Leaky Cauldron, actually. I can retrieve them..."

Dobby shook his head. "No need, sir. Dobby can have it done, quick as can be!" A snap of elven fingers had a clean place set at the table. "You refresh yourself, sir. Dobby will be looking after yous things."

Genesis fell back on his childhood experiences. As strange as this creature was, it seemed he really was a member of the household staff. "Thank you, Dobby. That would be most appreciated."

Dobby's eyes widened. "Master-Harry-Potter-Sir has the most wonderful friend. Truly great one, indeed, to thank Dobby. Dobby be getting yous room ready for you, sir."

The elf vanished. Genesis settled at the table and looked to Harry, who had taken the seat across from him. "What is... Dobby?"

Harry looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry, I seem to have left house elves out of my update. They're... like servants, but they bond to a household. It helps them live longer, and they actually do enjoy taking care of us. Dobby seems to think that I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread... for some reason."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, you've been kind to him. You listen to him. You got rid of Voldemort for ten years. I don't want to imagine what House Elves put up with when he was around. It had to be worse than with just the Malfoys."

Harry nodded, conceding the point. "I suppose, Hermione."

The others were slowly drifting back to the table. Molly, on one hand, wanted to demand to know where Harry had met this person and how he'd gotten into the Order's headquarters. On the other hand, they seemed to know each other quite well. Which was odd, in itself. Harry had never spoken of him. Since it was obvious that they were going to have to work to regain Harry's trust, she resolved to listen and learn what she could.

Arthur was mildly amazed that he hadn't had to stop his wife from having a screaming fit. It was surprising that she wasn't demanding that Harry tell her where he met Genesis. He took a seat with a small smile. Sometimes, she still managed to surprise him.

Sirius had wound up seated next to Genesis thanks to Dobby's placement of the man's plate. His canine enhanced nose detected a sharp tang in the air. Now that he thought of it, he picked up the same scent – only stronger – from Harry. He found himself hoping that he wasn't missing something important... like a twenty-something year old man sleeping with his fifteen-year-old godson. He might have to re-think his views on using the Dark Arts, if that was the case. Maybe he shouldn't burn the portrait of Walburga yet. She'd probably have a few useful suggestions...

He would have protested his godson randomly inviting strangers to stay with him, but he had a few reasons not to. One, he wanted Harry to feel like this was his home. Two, he had the feeling that watching them interact would answer more than a few questions. Questions like why an adult male would obey a child. Three, the man seemed genuinely inclined to defend Harry. If his godson did have a loyal friend ready to fight for him... It was best that he had all the support he could get. Four, Harry trusted him.

Most people wouldn't place much stock in a child's assessment of someone's character. But, most people hadn't had to rely on that very assessment to keep from being turned over for execution.

Ron, on the other side of Genesis, had actually tugged his coat sleeve up a bit to inspect the subtly glowing orbs in the bracer on his arm. "What's this?"

Genesis, acting as if being manhandled by a stranger was a daily occurrence, finished chewing his current bite before answering. "A bracer." He glanced at the boy out of the corner of his eye, letting a smirk touch his lips at Ron's indignant expression. "An Imperial Guard, to be specific."

Hermione seated herself across from Ron and herself a fresh cup of pumpkin juice. She took a sip, to moisten her throat. "And the glowing orbs?"

Genesis met her chocolate eyes with his glowing blue ones. "Materia."

She frowned. "What are they?"

"You were right, she is a scholar." He and Harry shared a chuckle while Hermione huffed. He pulled a green one out of the bracer and passed it to her. "Close your eyes and concentrate on it. Tell me what you feel."

She picked it up in her left hand. That had, after all, been the side he'd worn it on. So, she assumed that it was the correct hand to do this with. Almost the moment she closed her eyes, she felt a tingling from it. It wasn't painful. It reminded her more of the feeling of one of Madame Pomfrey's healing spells. "It feels... tingling, warm, and... like it wants to heal?"

"Hm. You have a talent for this... Observe." Genesis smiled flirtatiously at her and accepted the orb back. He pulled off his gauntlet and took a small knife from his belt. The sharp blade easily cut into his flesh. He picked up the green sphere and concentrated. Green sparkles glittered across his hand. He slotted the materia again and used his napkin to wipe the blood away. With it gone, they were treated to the sight of unblemished skin.

Hermione's head cocked to one side. "It's a spell focus, then?"

Genesis nodded. "Each materia is keyed to a different type of spell, summon, or effect. The more use a materia has seen and the more experience the caster has, the more powerful the result. After a significant amount of use, a materia will spawn a new one – essentially cloning or birthing a lower level version of itself."

Harry snorted in amusement and Genesis raised an eyebrow in query. "Sorry, just imagining the look on some poor wizard's face if a wand did that."

Even the adults at the table couldn't resist a laugh at that image. They might have laughed harder than the little bit of humor warranted, but they'd had an emotional evening and any reason to smile was welcome.

"Genesis..." Harry sub-vocalized. Seeing he had his friend's attention, he continued. "Please don't flirt with Hermione. I don't need that kind of complication right now. Feel free to flirt with Tonks or the others, though."

His friend's tiny smirk and minute nod of assent went unnoticed by the others.

* * *

He was not amused. He had no servant with the mark that he could use to call his minions to him, and he was fairly sure that the only surviving servants he did have... were ensconced in Azkaban. Worse, he had no money. A fact that made it difficult to travel, eat and even find a place to sleep. He could kill random strangers and use their homes, but he didn't want to risk drawing attention before he was prepared.

It was almost enough to send him into a fit of depression. Or, at least, make him tear his brand new hair out.

He was at a restaurant, just leaving the restroom and debating the easiest way to skip out on the check, when something irritated his nose. He sucked in a breath, then another. The violent sneeze that rocked his body triggered another part of his new anatomy. The exhale that accompanied the sneeze was a pale mist that spread around the room.

The patrons dropped like flies as every disease – known and unknown – wracked their bodies. Their immunities weren't able to handle ancient diseases that had supposedly been 'wiped out' by modern medicine. They certainly weren't able to handle so many at once. The diners turned various shades, vomited, screamed, sloughed off skin and collapsed to the ground in assorted permutations. The Dark Lord blinked, grabbed a few pieces of fruit from the kitchen for later, and slowly worked his way out of the front door across the mass of corpses.

At lest he didn't have to pay the check...

Tom Riddle, Jr was born in the 1920s. He lived in the wizarding world almost exclusively from the time he graduated Hogwarts in 1945 until his first death in 1980. This did not prepare him for modern conveniences like phones, computers and other electronics. He missed the cameras in the building that recorded the entire event. Even if he had noticed it, the recording was stored off site on a remote computer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Wow... So... Three chapters just covering the day of his arrival at Grimmauld... Okay... I should probably try to move this along more, shouldn't I? I'll see if I can't at least get to Harry's 'trial' next chapter._
> 
> _And, it doesn't appear that Sirius got the opportunity to hint about the Prophecy. Maybe it'll come up later._
> 
> _For those who haven't noticed – and for those who have – Dumbles hasn't commented on Harry's abrupt change yet. This is for two reasons. One, he noticed Harry's hair changing to gray in his fourth year – remember my commenting that he had gray hairs before the last task? So, the change was actually less abrupt than it could have been. Meeting Voldie would be enough to turn any teen's hair gray, right? And he's done so how many times now?_
> 
> _Two, he's under the impression that Harry is a horcrux, so he's avoiding him and probably thinks that the physical changes (height, etc.) are from Tom. He was quite a bit taller than Harry, more assertive, and his hair did have a bit of a wave in the front (remember his appearance in CoS). The changing events haven't gotten to greatly influence him yet, due to minimal exposure to the direct cause and Harry's previous isolation from the others._
> 
> _The only ones (on Harry's side) who would have been truly affected so far are the ones that Harry socialized with on the train, and those he met during the summer. As he was being an introvert on the train and just listening to others, they didn't get the full effect of his new mind. So that means the Dursleys, Gen, and now the members and non-members of the Order that are at Grimmauld for this dinner._
> 
> _Voldie, has been laying low. His changes have only had a chance to influence the muggles. "Only," I say. As if... Her Royal Majesty, Elizabeth II has not planned any appearances – just for reference. In the background, some MI-6 or Scotland Yard peeps might investigate the oddities our dear Wizarding Dark Lord has caused. Given the Prime Minister's chats with the MoM... Well, things are going to be interesting._
> 
> _It'll really start snowballing, soon..._
> 
> _For reference, by the way, my chapters may start getting shorter if I'm to keep the same update schedule. I'm having to do my mother's share of the housework and play fetch-n-carry, since she pulled a muscle in her leg. Therefore, my uninterrupted writing time will be greatly curtailed. I apologize and hope that this improves soon._


	5. Chapter 5

# Five

After dinner, Harry managed to persuade Sirius, Genesis and Hermione to meet him in the library for a private chat. Sirius placed a few wards on the door to defeat the Twin's inventions and keep the others away. Harry was glad of that, since he knew that Molly would want to know what they were talking about. She had an almost unhealthy obsession with seeing him as one of her sons.

He barely knew Ginny, and wasn't at all sure that he was attracted to her. Well, not beyond the normal teenage boy's attraction to anything that moved. He wasn't going to hold his breath on her desire becoming reality. In fact, if she kept pushing it, he was more likely to push them away. He inwardly smirked. This moment of teenage self-awareness brought to you by having a past life.

As it was, almost moments after they had settled in and before anyone really had the chance to say anything, Sirius scowled. "Someone's already picking at the wards."

He started to stand back up, but Genesis waved him back to his seat. "Allow me." The red-coated Commander stalked to the door and opened it. He pitched his voice at almost a silky-sweet tone, far more dangerous-sounding than any yelling would ever be. "If we are interrupted again before our meeting is concluded, the person who is responsible will find him or herself a head shorter. Am I understood?"

He didn't wait for a response, closing the door and returning to his seat. He cast himself across the old-fashioned fainting couch dramatically. "Really! The nerve! Sephiroth, you have got to get a better class of minion."

"Friends, Gen, not minions." They shared a smirk and Harry continued, "They're just concerned and curious. I seem to remember a certain ginger Commander trying to hack into various departmental files to find out exactly where his friends were going on confidential missions... You might know him?"

Genesis let his lower lip stick out in a pout for a moment, then grinned. "All right, enough of this hilarity. What do you need?"

Harry let a smile touch his lips and leaned back in his seat. "As some of you know, I am being brought up on charges of underage magic use. Specifically, I was supposed to have used my wand to defeat the Dementors that attacked me this summer. As I did not use a wand or any other Ministry regulated and/or tracked device, I want to know precisely how I can get out of this. In particular, any loopholes in the law that could be used to humiliate whoever it is that is trying to get me expelled."

Hermione grumbled about frame-ups and the likelihood of a kangaroo court. The others ignored her mutters, recognizing that she needed to get it out of her system.

In the meantime, Sirius was chuckling. "You have them on so many levels, kiddo. It's almost not funny. One, you were entered into the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The new rules they set up stated that you had to be seventeen. In effect, a legal adult. Two, you're the Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. You were automatically emancipated on your fourteenth birthday as the last of your line – no paperwork required. There are some things that emancipation doesn't apply to – you still have to complete your schooling and can't take your seat on the Wizengamot – but, the Reasonable Restriction is waived as a result."

Harry cocked his head. "What does the law state about remembering past lives?"

Sirius shrugged. "As long as that life ended after your seventeenth birthday, you'd be emancipated for that. Of course, that one does require Ministry verification. Once that's done, your legal age is either your age in your last life – plus the number of years since you've remembered – or your current age, whichever is higher. Your emancipation would be backdated to the day you remembered that life. Your birth date remains the same, though."

Hermione shook her head. "That sounds hopelessly cumbersome. How do they verify it?"

Sirius smiled at her. "It's a simple spell, actually. It shows the birth and death dates for all remembered lives, records the legal age and date of recall, and then updates the Ministry records. Finally, the spell creates identification for you to present if – or when – you need. Of course, it's only legal if done by an employee of the Ministry." He turned to Harry. "Why the question, pup?"

Harry laughed. "Because, in the only other life I can remember, I died at twenty-two. And again at twenty-seven and twenty-nine. If they go by my age at my last death, then that means that my legal age is now almost thirty. Since I remembered all of that this last year."

Sirius blinked at him. His godson remembered a past life. He opened his mouth and closed it. Harry died multiple times in that life. Sirius had no idea how that was possible. The Dark Arts, maybe? He uncomfortably shifted in his seat. He really didn't want to know if that was the case, so he decided not to ask.

Sirius rolled the rest of it around in his mind. His godson was a thirty-year-old man in a fifteen-year-old body. Three separate reasons to be considered an adult. The Ministry would be humiliated beyond belief. He eyed Harry, an evil smirk starting to play around his lips. "I'm actually rather delighted to bring this up... But, Arthur Weasley is a Ministry employee. Wanna add a third spell to the scroll of humiliation?"

The wicked smile Harry gave him was the very same one he'd worn at the burning of Nibelheim.

* * *

Harry and Arthur made their way into the Ministry of Magic. The fireplaces roared and spat out workers in gouts of green flame. He absently noted the statue and the ridiculous tiling on the walls, ceiling and floor. The semi-controlled chaos and ostentatious decor reminded him of the lobby in Shin-Ra tower at the height of the company's power.

They passed through the checkpoint and boarded the lift. Soon, they were plummeting to the lower levels and Harry was left outside of the courtroom. He inwardly rolled his eyes at Arthur's attempt to be reassuring. If he hadn't already had a plan, he would have been nervous as hell. Arthur's faith in the goodness of people would not have helped. 'Truth will out,' indeed.

Not that the General in him would ever go into an ambush like this without a plan.

He strode inside with his back straight and head held high. He settled in the 'prisoner's seat' with all the dignity of a king sitting on his throne, then calmly nodded his acknowledgment to the officials present. Confidence was key when facing the enemy. The appearance of superiority was half the fight.

Fudge, not having expected him to be here thanks to the change in time, fumbled a bit before calling the meeting to order. The following events were a farce. A few questions, no chance to provide his own statement, and the man tried to call for a vote? Harry cleared his throat. "I believe it is traditional to permit the accused to mount a defense. Unless, you want this to look like the despotic mockery that it currently resembles."

A toad-faced woman to Fudge's right interjected. "How dare you!?"

He quirked an amused eyebrow. "I thought we were supposed to be honest in a courtroom. That is my honest opinion of the behavior of this court so far."

Another woman, wearing a monocle, spoke. "Madam Umbridge, Minister – he is correct. He has a right to present his case."

Umbridge huffed, but subsided. Fudge grumbled, but gathered himself. "Very well. Defend your actions, if you can."

Harry gave a slight bow, then turned to the monocle-wearing woman. "A few questions on the law, if I may." At her nod, he continued. "I apologize for not knowing your name, Madam. But, the Reasonable Restriction – does it include magic done without a wand?"

"No, Lord Potter, it does not. Accidental magic is precisely that. Also, it is the position of the Ministry that no one in your age group has the control of their magic required to perform true wandless magic." Her gaze pierced him. "Also, I am Madam Amelia Bones."

"Thank you, Madame Bones." Harry gave an thoughtful look. "In my age group... Only an adult can perform wandless magic?"

"That is correct." Bones smiled, wondering where he was going with this line of questioning.

"So," Harry shifted to get comfortable and settled one of his ankles on the opposite knee. "If I were to conjure fire or something similar – right now – would that legally be accidental magic, or would I be an adult?"

She was starting to get a bit impatient, and so was the Minister. Fudge's voice broke in. "It would be accidental. Your point, Mister Potter?"

"That's 'Lord Potter,' Minister." Harry casually created a trio of fireballs and juggled them back and forth between his hands, ignoring their horrified expressions. Umbridge's face was the most amusing, though. She looked like he'd just threatened to tear her spine out through her mouth: face pale and eyes bulging even further out of their sockets. "Mostly curiosity. You see, this trial was illegal in the first place. As the Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, I was automatically emancipated on my fourteenth birthday. According to the rules that the Ministry required for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, I was declared a legal adult by the Ministry, three schools of magic, and the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. And, by the remembrance of my past life during the last task, I am legally almost thirty years old."

He dispelled the fireballs. In a fluid motion, he stood and pulled out the identification card that proved his claim to a prior life. He walked over to the bench and passed it to Madame Bones. She examined it, then passed it back to him. She confirmed its authenticity for the others.

"I did not use my wand to combat the Dementors – I am willing to provide pensieve memories of their presence – I used wandless magic. Even if I had been a child, I would have been well within my rights to do anything and everything to protect myself. As I was an adult... Well, that's what makes this whole trial so ridiculous. Even if you argue that you weren't aware of the past life, you were perfectly aware of the other two reasons I am now considered legally an adult."

Fudge started to speak, but Harry steam-rolled over him. "As for performing magic in front of a muggle: The muggle in question is my maternal cousin. The boy resides in the same household that I do, and is perfectly aware of my attendance at Hogwarts. I can only assume the Ministry condones this knowledge, as Madame Hopkirk has sent at least one Howler to that location. If my muggle family was not supposed to be aware of the Wizarding World, then she – and, by extension, the Ministry – is guilty of violating the Statute of Secrecy."

The room was in a quiet uproar as murmurs broke out. None of the dark supporters had considered that he would be aware enough of the law to point out their legal fallacies. This threw all their plans and a great deal of their political power into question. All it would take was one article and the public would be wondering just what the hell their leaders were playing at. They would have to spin this carefully.

The light supporters were pleased, as this meant he wasn't the bumbling child that had been shown in the Daily Prophet. They might have a successor for Dumbledore, after all. The neutrals – Madame Bones included – were busily considering the political ramifications of a Boy-Who-Lived that was more cunning than expected. Bones, herself, was regretting that Susan wasn't closer to the boy.. man. It would be a good match.

Umbridge looked like she'd swallowed whichever ancestor was the amphibian. He hated to realize that he'd ruined her day... no, wait. He didn't. He was deliriously pleased to have thwarted the plans of such a condescending woman.

The Minister grumbled and called the room back to order through prodigious use of his gavel. He practically growled that Harry was cleared of all charges.

Harry, however, was not finished. He spoke before the Minister and his sycophants could flee the room. "Madame Bones, I have a few issues to bring before the Wizengamot. Since you're all here...?"

He continued when she indicated that he could. "I have two matters I would like to address. The first, is that my godfather – Sirius Orion Black, Lord Black of the Ancient and Noble House of Black – never received a trial. Yet, for some reason, this scion of a pureblood House was left to rot in Azkaban for thirteen years and currently has a Kiss-On-Sight order for escaping a facility in which he was never legally incarcerated. I feel that this sets a dangerous precedent for all members of this society."

The purebloods in the room were outraged. This was the first they'd heard of the issue, as Fudge hadn't even mentioned it to the Wizengamot. Judgment committees had been convened after the fall of Voldemort. The panels had been kept small and the trials quick so that they could get the business over with. As multiple committees had met at once time, no one person had been present for all of them. That a pureblood noble had been allowed to slip through the cracks horrified them.

It wasn't because it was wrong, but because they were afraid that it would happen to them.

As Fudge was incoherent, Madame Bones spoke. "All in favor of bringing Sirius Black, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, in for trial and temporarily rescinding the Kiss-On-Sight order?"

The vote was unanimous. She turned back to Harry. "And your second order of business, Lord Potter?"

He smirked up at her. "Where do I register for an Apparition license?"

At that moment, the doors blasted open. "Witness for the Defense: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!"

Harry turned to face him. "You're a little late, Headmaster. The trial is over. I was acquitted. We're just wrapping up some other business."

Dumbledore raised both his eyebrows, but Madame Bones spoke first. "You may register on the fifth floor, Lord Potter."

He turned back to her and gave a polite bow. "Thank you, Madame Bones."

The Wizengamot filed out. Harry was surprised when Dumbledore just left him there. _Not even a well done? Or a question of how I did it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Poor Dumbles... He's still about twenty or thirty pages behind the rest of us! Still, we'll see how that changes._
> 
> _I hope the initial Fudge smack down was what everyone was hoping it would be? Sadly, he'll still be Minister for a while. Why? Because, I feel like torturing him. Umbridge, too._
> 
> _Still not really happy with the planning and courtroom scenes. Felt like I crammed far too much explanation in one and made the courtroom scene too easy. Ah well. I did my best on them._
> 
> _There would have been more to this chapter, but I burned my pinkie finger pulling the turkey out of the oven on Thursday. Then, on Friday, my mother's dog decided that twelve years was enough of a lifespan. My husband and I dug a grave and collapsed, exhausted. As Friday is usually my 'final edit' day, that put me a bit behind. So, you get the scenes that I feel were polished enough. The rest of the scenes will be in the next chapter._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I don't know where I found time to even do this much. It was somewhere in between my mother's dog dying, her going into the hospital (they think it's cancer - again), finding out we needed $1500 to fix the car and my getting sick. (I don't know if it's a cold or the flu, yet. I'm just plain miserable and have been for three days now.) I apologize if this isn't up to my usual standard, but – as you can see – I'm a bit distracted._

# Six

When Harry returned to the House of Black, there was a small party to celebrate his victory at the Ministry. He was quite happy to explain just how he'd won his case. Sirius was practically crowing in his joy at the Ministry's defeat. There was a lot of laughter as he described the look on Umbridge's face when he juggled the fireballs.

Harry enjoyed the conversation and found great amusement in the Twins antics. They tried to prank just about everyone. Their apparition skills were put to the test when they pranked Genesis. He retaliated by teaching them his favorite game: Dodge Fireball. He, of course, was the only one pitching them.

In between his snickers, Harry spent most of his time dispelling fireballs before they could hit any of the innocent bystanders or set the house on fire.

Finally, the party ran down and Genesis was relaxing in a corner with a bit of cake. The twins had collapsed – panting and exhausted – in the opposite corner. They gratefully accepted the pumpkin juice their sister brought them, only to be gotten with one of their own pranks. They were too tired to do much more than promise retribution when they discovered their multicolored skin.

Being moderately exhausted by his already long day, Harry returned to his room to relax and nap for a while. Sirius had overridden Molly's commands and given each of the kids their own room, since Dobby and Winky had cleaned all the bedrooms out that first night. She wasn't pleased, but he insisted that growing boys needed their privacy to 'relieve their tensions.' Harry spent a significant amount of brainpower forcing himself to think about anything other than what Sirius meant by that. In his opinion, Molly Weasley and anything sexual should never be mentioned in the same country, much less the same sentence.

He had just pulled on a pair of black silk sleep pants with silver piping – a thoughtful birthday gift from Genesis who obviously remembered his tastes – and pulled the covers back. That the gift was purchased with money he'd given his friend didn't matter. He was more than pleased with the sentiment alone. There was a knock on the door, interrupting his contemplation. With a mental shrug, he flopped into the bed. "Come in."

Genesis stepped into the room. His sub-vocalization wouldn't be picked up by anything the wizard's had, not even the Twin's inventions. "The little scholar is asking questions. She wants to know how I know you and who you once were."

Harry leaned back against his pillow, absently playing with a lock of his own hair. Absently, he pondered why he never seemed to get split ends. Outwardly, he just smirked. "Let her ask. I have yet to see anything in this world that indicates knowledge of us."

Genesis nodded. "True. Even so, I think we should keep an eye on things. If we are 'outed' as former villains, then who knows what they will do." He shook his head. "Modern humans have become even more narrow-minded than they were."

Harry nodded. "I know. So many spells that could be used for other things are banned simply because of the uses that they have been put to. Others, are treated like jokes. I could permanently blind someone with Lumos Maxima, Mobilicorpus someone off a cliff or use Diffendo to remove a head. Why aren't they restricted? Why isn't all magic restricted?"

Genesis shrugged. "Because they are convenient for everyday things, no doubt."

Harry snorted. "I suppose."

* * *

The next morning, he jogged lightly down the stairs and into the kitchen. He had had a good night. No strange dreams and no nightmares. Had he been aware of the quiet hum under his breath, he would probably been embarrassed. As it was, the hum ended as he laughed at the cover of the Daily Prophet sitting at the table. The headline was perfect.

He sat down, idly thanking Dobby for the cup of tea and plate that appeared on the table, and started reading:

_**Fudge Fudged Charges Against Potter and Black!**  
By Rita Skeeter _

_Every man, woman and child in the Wizarding World is aware of two fundamental laws. The first is the Statute of Secrecy, which bars the unreasonable and militant muggle populace from attempting to interfere with our lives. The second is the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, which bars our children from practicing their magic out of school. According to the Minister's Office, Harry Potter violated both._

_What our esteemed Minister failed to tell us – and the Wizengamot – is that Lord Potter was already emancipated at the time. A fact that our noble Wizengamot should have already been aware of, as he was emancipated primarily under the laws applying to the sole heir of an Ancient and Noble House._

_In fact, Lord Potter is considered and adult three times over... Once, for his heir status. Again, for his participation in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, where the rules stated that only someone over the age of seventeen could participate and he was compelled to do so by the Ministry, three schools of magic and the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. And, finally, for having remembered a past life – a life where he died at the age of twenty-nine._

_Who was he? The Boy-Who-Lived hasn't revealed this information. Nor has he disclosed the circumstances of his life and death. However, you can be assured, my dear readers, that we will faithfully report when he does._

_As for Minister Fudge, he is still in office. A two-thirds majority of the Wizengamot or a unanimous vote by Department Heads is required to unseat the Minister between elections. Otherwise, the Minister would have to step down of his own accord. That may be his best choice politically._

_Why? Because his office has been fully aware of a second issue facing the judiciary, yet has failed to provide all relevant information to the Wizengamot. The issue is the supposed conviction of Lord Sirius Black. Yes, I wrote 'supposed' there, my dear readers. The Scion and Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black never received a trial, was not questioned by law enforcement, and was not even given the courtesy of a barrister._

_He was summarily thrown in Azkaban without even a hint of due process._

_His initial incarceration was during the reign of former Minister Bagnold. However, when the evidence was brought to our current Minister, he refused to re-examine the case. He even went so far as to insist that the witnesses to a living Peter Pettigrew had been confunded._

_That's right. Peter Pettigrew, awarded a posthumous Order of Merlin, is alive. And, Lord Potter contends, he was a Death Eater. "Sirius," he says, "was a decoy so that the true Secret Keeper wouldn't be found. Unfortunately, he ran straight to Voldemort once he had the power to do so... I don't know why my parents didn't ask him to just roll up his sleeve. It would have saved their lives."_

_Which brings us to another question, dear reader, and one I would like to hear your opinions on: Should we average citizens be able to demand that anyone roll up their sleeve to check for the Dark Mark? Or should that be strictly Ministry Business?_

_See also:_

_Emancipation and the Law, p2_

_Sirius Crimes: the Ministry and Lord Black, p3_

_Due Process: How It's Supposed To Work, p4_

Harry chuckled as he finished the article. It was much better to have Rita Skeeter stirring up trouble for you, rather than the reverse. Far, far more entertaining. He folded the paper and took another sip of tea before starting in on his eggs. _Letting her cling to my robes during the trial was a fantastic idea... Thank you, Hermione._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _On an interesting note, Final Fantasy VII was released in 1997. Japan's release was in January, and the North American version in September. I haven't decided whether it will exist in this world or not. I had the original PS One and the old PC version. A newer updated PC version was released earlier this year, for those who are interested. It's a pretty decent revamp of the older PC version. Not what I'd call spectacular, but the polygons are clear instead of fuzzy on an HD screen._
> 
>  
> 
> _For reference – when it pops up and asks for your SquareEnix account for validation, make sure that you click on "Sign in through Square-Enix North America" if your account is on that website. Otherwise, you will be directed to create an account through the European server and have a heck of a time getting it fixed._
> 
>  
> 
> _You can thank Zesiro Cross on FFN for the suggestion about Rita, I know I do!_
> 
>  
> 
> _Fudge – in this case – means to: "Present or deal with (something) in a vague, noncommittal, or inadequate way, esp. so as to conceal the truth or mislead." Thank you, Google, for the precise definition. I was not looking forward to having to define it in my own words – especially while on cold meds._  
> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer
> 
> I do not own this. If I did, I'd have fewer worries financially.
> 
> Note
> 
> This is the previous author's note that appeared in this chapter's place:
> 
>  
> 
> _Ladies and Gentlemen,_
> 
>  
> 
> _I'm sorry to say that I've written about four paragraphs this week, but have been unable to write any further. It's not through lack of interest, and definitely no one's fault here._
> 
>  
> 
> _My mother has been diagnosed with Grade IV metastatic endometrial cancer. This means that it started in one place (her uterus) and has spread to her lungs and the bones in her spinal column. As I'm sure you have guess, the prognosis is not good. The typical survival rate from diagnosis is 6 to 8 months. Add in that she's 73 years old..._
> 
>  
> 
> _(etc.)_
> 
>  
> 
> For those who are curious, she's doing fairly well now. She has, as of this week, beaten the average prognosis. (Go, mom!) She may start a second round of chemo shortly, but is on drugs that allow her to 'take a break' from being poisoned by it for a while. The whole thing depends on what they decide as a result of her upcoming tests.
> 
> On the downside, as she feels better... Well, when one is feeling just a little bit bad, one tends to get cranky. And, boy, has she been cranky! On the bright side... With her better able to take care of herself, I can write the more intensive stories again. Still not up to my previous standards, but I'm getting there.
> 
> On another note, the total hit count across AO3 and FFN staggered me. GoF: 15974. OotP: 27556. This is, of course, pure hits. It doesn't take duplicates into account. Still, wow... The two combined have over 140 reviews!

The arrival of the book lists sparked a bit of controversy. Mostly, in Harry's opinion, because the magicals of the world were bred for stupidity. Not that Molly was stupid, but she was ignoring the facts in front of her. She didn't want him in Diagon Alley at all. She claimed it was too dangerous.

She was not very happy when he pointed out that he'd personally removed several of Voldemort's top Death Eaters from the roster. Or, when he reminded her that he was legally an adult. (An assertion that had him sounding more like a child than he'd like to admit.) After three hours of listening to her screech, he finally gave in to the demands of his ears and silenced her. Then, he downed a potion for his splitting headache and got ready to leave.

To her irritation, no one demanded that he remove the spell. She did – finally – calm down a bit when he told her that he was planning on asking Genesis, Tonks and Remus to accompany him. Just because he was capable of taking care of himself did not mean that he was stupid enough to not accept help. Having a squad to watch his back was sound tactically.

Then, Ron mentioned he wanted to go. That started the whole argument over again. The end result, was that Sephiroth would pick up Ron's things (plus a few requests he'd hastily scrawled on the parchment) and Hermione's things (plus a few extra books she'd added to the list), and a few more things for Ginny (he drew the line at the love potion ingredients). He'd reluctantly agreed to pick some extra supplies up for the Twins, too. Mostly in the interests of not angering Molly further by reminding them that they were adults, too.

As he grabbed his key, pack and money pouch, the twins started debating exactly what it should say on his tombstone when their mother finally gave up and murdered him for failing to comply with her demands. The leading options were _Pranked a Prewitt_ (in honor of his silencing Molly) or _Smothered by a Mother_ (commemorating her interactions with him). He had to smile. It wasn't that it was terribly funny, but that some part of him would have liked to see Molly handling the invasion of Wutai. He was fairly certain that she would have either had the local government under her thumb in a weekend or she would have harangued President Shin-Ra into giving up his goals.

He did appreciate that she wanted him alive. He loved that she cared. But, he felt that she needed to realize that he really wasn't one of her children. He hadn't even been a child in his first incarnation – much less now. He'd thought that she'd understood it, but maybe the habit was too hard to break?

Of course, there was a bit of other drama to consider. Ron had been made a Prefect. He was happy for his friend, really. Well, more relieved that it wasn't him. One lifetime trying to forge the masses into something resembling order was more than enough for him. He certainly didn't want to try it in a school. There was no way he could do it with the current point system – the teachers would probably get upset if he dragged a third year into a training room and battled him to get his point across. Not to mention the inevitable alienation of being 'in charge.'...

So, he congratulated Ron and ignored the people that were waiting for him to explode at being excluded from such a 'prestigious' hassle.

Genesis, of course, found the whole thing amusing. He knew quite well why Sephiroth didn't want to lead again. Genesis had seen what had happened the first time. He'd probably come up with a few reasons in addition to the ones he'd already thought of.

* * *

Diagon Alley, when the small group arrived, was bustling. People were happily shopping with no knowledge of the coming storm. Voldemort, Harry knew, would not be denied his chaos. He hadn't been much different as a villain. He'd just been a bit better at it.

Really, the so-called Dark Lord couldn't effectively oppress a small fraction of the populace of a single island. Sephiroth had nearly destroyed a world.

As it was going to upset his minders, Sephiroth quickly did the regular shopping before going into the areas he wanted – needed – to explore. In the process, he even grabbed a couple of extra books for himself and Genesis. The red-haired SOLDIER was now the proud owner of _Hogwarts: A History_ , and a few other useful guides to the wizarding world. He'd picked up all the primers on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes that he could find. _Divination and Care of Magical Creatures? What was I thinking? Of all the useless topics..._

The two magicals were less than pleased to see him heading for Knockturn Alley. Remus spoke up first. "Harry, you shouldn't go down there."

He sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes like the teenager he was in this life. "Remus, Voldemort and his sympathizers are still out there. I need to know what I'm facing. I am most certainly not going to discover what I need to know in the section of the market that deals with Bright-Eyed Novices."

Tonks interjected, "The Black library..."

Harry cut her off, "Is only useful in the most limited sense. Voldemort didn't limit himself to the library of one House, and I can't afford to do so. I already examined the library and now we're going to see if we can add to it." A smirk made it's way across his face. "Besides, if you think this morning was bad, can you imagine Molly's response if I pick out and start reading _Dark Arts: Spells of Choice_ in front of her? I need sources that she can't attempt to censor."

With a reluctant nod, they followed him.

The shopping trip, he reflected later, probably would have gone better without an Auror along. Not that Tonks was wearing her robes, but she was relatively recognizable when she wasn't changing her shape. There were few witches that walked around with lime green hair. By choice, at least.

Still, he did manage to pick up a few gems. He found a book on the animagus transformation and one on Occlumency that even Remus had to admit he'd find useful. A book on ritual magic, one on Elementalism, and a few on magical history rounded out his reading list. The pickings were disappointingly slim.

Like Binns, most of the histories on Flourish and Blotts had been focused on the Goblin Wars. It was useful information, true, but he needed a bit more than that. He needed to know what had happened with the various Dark Lords. It might help him predict what Voldemort was going to try next.

The trip to Borgin and Burkes was amusing and a bit more profitable than the other stores. His actions at the resurrection had apparently spread through the underworld gossip network, as the shopkeeper (a Borgin of indeterminate first name) was more afraid of him than the Auror behind him. A few glares and a couple of pointed comments gained him entry to the hidden stacks in the back. That was more helpful. Seventy-three Dark Arts books later, they walked out of the store with Sephiroth's coin purse much lighter.

He was willing to be that only two or three would actually be useful, but he couldn't be certain until he sat down and did a comparative study. Though, considering the amount of work involved, he might rope Genesis and Hermione into helping him. Books were more their field. He was just an amateur by comparison.

After that, they stopped and grabbed an expanded trunk. It had three compartments. Two were just standard sized, but the third had a large library rack that would rotate and allow him easy access to his books. After adding his purchases, he could still probably fit the entire Black library in there – were he so inclined.

The trunk was also heavily warded. It wasn't that he didn't trust his roommates, but better safe than them accidentally injuring themselves with the wrong information. He also made a note to himself to research further wards to add. Who knew what the Ministry or the teachers would try in their attempt to keep him quiet, controllable, and child-like?

He had Genesis keyed into the wards immediately, since he was present, and instructions for how to add Hermione later.

* * *

In the grand scheme of things, this was probably not retribution. Sephiroth wouldn't imagine that Molly saw a party as the torture he did. Still, even accidentally, it was a fitting torment to be forced to mingle with the various Order members. Needed, if he was to achieve his eventual goals. Still, torture.

Oh, the party for winning against the Wizengamot wasn't bad. This, though, was most of the Order and the tedious conversations were boring the heck out of him. He didn't get half the jokes, since they required background information that 'every' wizard knew. It reminded him of the Shin-Ra office parties that he'd been dragged to as a General. Even Ron seemed a bit unhappy with the soiree, though he was still basking in the attention.

Molly was in her element, and seemed to have forgotten – or, at least, forgiven – their earlier disagreement. He knew his genuine happiness for her younger son had helped that along. She was practically radiating pride. Every now and then, she'd walk past Ron and squeeze him to near asphyxiation with one of her hugs.

He, meanwhile, tried his best to network the way he'd seen so many Shin-Ra employees do. It was amazing how far a little attention went when it came to making a good impression on people. That he was willing to listen to them seemed to flatter them no end. When he actually paid a complement, they beamed happily at him.

He was probably reaping the benefits of his 'Boy-Who-Lived' title, but he'd trade on it forever if it meant keeping his friends safe.

To his great surprise, even Snape had shown up. The 'Bat of the Dungeons' was in one corner, just watching everyone else as they attempted to enjoy themselves. Since the professor's attention was elsewhere, Harry took the moment to examine him. He was still sallow skinned, greasy haired and had appalling dental hygiene. Still...

With his memories of a different time, came a different appreciation for the work of a spy. It was true that he didn't seem to be making much of a difference. Or had, as Moody claimed, possibly not made much of one in the last version of this war. Still, it wasn't the quality of information passed - it was how the superior officers chose to use (or not use) it. He couldn't be entirely blamed for his risks not yielding much return.

He smiled ruefully to himself. The things children failed to understand, but that being a General brought into sharp relief.

He thought back to his own mistrust and behavior. Sure, he didn't trust him. It was impossible, from a logical standpoint, to trust a spy. Still, he had given the man a harder time than was perhaps needed over the last few years. Tseng and Lazard would have been very disappointed in his treatment of what could be an excellent resource.

With that in mind, he squared his shoulders and approached. Black eyes turned to meet his, and he felt the first ticklings of something in his mind. It was a simple effort to gently remove him and establish a barrier. He was nowhere near as skilled as Mother had been.

Shock passed fleetingly through the gaze, but was suppressed in less than a second. It didn't show on his face, though. Their spy had too much control for that. He had to have that control to survive his tenuous position.

Harry's mouth had dried, so he swallowed to moisten it. "I owe you an apology." He continued when the professor's head tilted in curiosity. "I haven't given you half the credit you deserve. Instead of reserving judgment on your abilities and motivations, I have let a petty personality conflict shape my opinion of you since the day we met. It was a mistake on my part to allow our personal dislike of each other to have an effect on my interactions with you on a professional level. I am deeply sorry."

"Since I know you have no desire to be in my company, I will leave you to your drink. Good evening, Professor." With that, he gave a short bow, turned and headed back to the others.

* * *

If he'd kept his eye trained on Snape for just a few more seconds, he would have seen unbridled surprise followed swiftly by confusion. _A Potter, showing intelligence and courtesy? Acknowledging that I'm at least useful?_ The professor set his drink down and headed for his quarters at Hogwarts. He needed to think on this... development. And, perhaps, examine his own interactions with the boy.

* * *

Having had enough of the party – and not seeing Molly anywhere to try to stop him – Harry retreated from the fray. He'd spoken to everyone for at least a few minutes, and he just needed a chance to relax and let his guard down a bit. He slipped up the stairs quietly, only to hear sobbing noises coming from the drawing room on the first floor. He entered the room at a run, Masamune appearing in his hand, only to draw up short.

Molly was on the ground sobbing, while an image of Ron lay dead on the floor in front of her. He wasn't sure what supposedly killed him, but it wasn't a spell. There was blood everywhere. He blinked for a moment, as he'd just seen the younger Weasley downstairs. And there was no scent to the blood.

She raised her wand. "R-r-riddikulus!"

Ron turned into him with a cracking noise. His brain kicked in. A boggart. He let out a sigh. He could use the same spell, but....

He looked at Masamune. He looked at the boggart. Maybe? Wizards tended to ignore the physical approach.

A slash later, the boggart had become Arthur. Molly sobbed harder and he growled. Fire curled around his fingertips. It wasn't the relatively safe fire of the _incendio,_ or even a Firaga. No, he'd learned well at the fight in the graveyard. His finger pointed and a small stream of _Fiendfyre_ crashed into the semi-sentient monster.

With a shrieking pop, the image vanished. All that remained was a pile of ash.

He ended the spell after a short but intense battle for control. He released Masamune and moved to kneel beside the overwhelmed woman. She was crying, face buried in her hands. He swallowed. He was no good at this. Still, he couldn't leave her in a heap on the floor.

A little coaxing had her settled on a ruined settee. Drawing on his limited experience comforting Hermione, he settled next to her and tugged her against him. His new height allowed him to tuck her face into his neck, even as he stroked her back with one hand. He made what soothing noises he could, reassuring her that it was only a boggart and – if he had anything to say about it – she was never going to have to face that in reality.

She cried harder and he resigned himself to having to shower again tonight in order to get the tears and snot off of his skin. He supposed it would be worth it. After all, she was almost family. If he could ease her pain, he would.

A noise caught his attention. He didn't move, but he did raise his eyes to see a sympathetic looking Remus and Moody standing in the doorway. Moody shook his head and left. Remus walked over, sat on the other side of her and rested a hand on her back.

"What happened?"

"Boggart."

The were looked around, and then spotted the ash. His eyebrows climbed. "What did you do to it?"

"Few things can resist fire." Molly was calming now, so he gently pulled away. Her eyes were red and she was still sniffling, but she seemed otherwise fine. She accepted a handkerchief from Remus. "I promise you. I will do everything I can to avoid that happening." He moved a strand of hair that her tears had plastered to her face and tucked it behind her ear. "Nightmares, I take it?"

She swallowed, but nodded. Her eyes lowered in shame.

He forced himself to smile at her. He could relate to this. He'd had nightmares of his friends dying, too. Heck, he had nightmares of what would have happened had Cedric taken the Tri-Wizard cup.

"It's perfectly natural. We all have them." She blinked up at him and, just for a moment, he knew she was seeing him. Not the child she expected, and not the savior of the Wizarding world, but him: the world-weary ex-SOLDIER that had been reincarnated into the body of a child soldier. "All we can do is our best. Even then, some will die. But, we keep fighting and keep working. Just maybe, when it's all over, we'll see them when we pass on and they will thank us for not letting them die in vain."

Molly Weasley was not a stupid woman. She never had been. She may not have Hermione's analytical brain, but she could reach a conclusion that was right most of the time – once she'd allowed the facts to reach her. "You were a soldier."

He nodded, but changed the emphasis slightly. "Yes. I was a SOLDIER. To be more accurate, I was a General. I was hoping that this life would be more peaceful, but..." He gave a rueful laugh. "I seem to be destined for conflict no matter what I do."

The realization of what his war had probably inflicted on him had her tearing up again. She hugged him and shed a few more tears into his already sodden neck. "Oh, Harry..."

He gently kissed her hair. This was... new for him, but not unwelcome. In his last life, people had cried because of him and not for him. At least, to his knowledge. Aerith might have, before he killed her. She was a rather compassionate soul. In this life, it was first Hermione and now Molly. Some part wondered if they'd be better off if he hadn't befriended them, but he set that aside for later contemplation. "I know. It's all right. I've lived with this for a very long time."

"It's n-not a-all r-right! Y-you shouldn't h-have t-to!"

"No one _should_ have to, but someone _does._ Otherwise, megalomaniacal morons like Voldemort win and civilization crumbles. It's just... the way things are. Every society needs a Hero – a Champion – to help keep the true Villains in line. I just happen to be saddled with it, this time around."

Finally, Remus managed to convince Molly to let him go. He watched them leave and then took a quick shower. The water was soothing as it beat down on his tense muscles, but it didn't wash away the headache that had started earlier and only gotten worse as he spoke with Molly. He settled into sleep expecting to have a rough night.

He was right. Wutain battlefields, dying friends and hypothetical situations streamed in vivid Technicolor behind his eyes for most of the night. By the time he fell asleep, the rest of the house was silent. Even then, his sleep was far from restful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly has, sort of, learned her lesson in previous chapters. Still, that doesn't mean that she doesn't worry. She still sees the surface – a fifteen year old boy – and that's what she reacts to. Most people do that. It's natural. In addition, the habits of a lifetime are hard to change. She deals with worry by smothering – or, mothering depending on your perspective. I think her later conversation with Sephiroth might help with that. Maybe.
> 
> Sephiroth's memories, meanwhile, are influencing Harry to a greater degree in this chapter. He's heading into a war and he knows it. That means that he needs intelligence, weapons, and soldiers. He has the last one, if they can ever realize that he is a General and not a pawn. He has weapons, too. Intelligence has to be obtained from other sources, since he knows the majority of the Order will not tell him what he needs to know. Molly will see to that.
> 
> Yes, the inevitable shopping trip. Honestly, I think Sephiroth overestimates how useful the books will be for him. The only thing he could really get from them is which curses to avoid and how to counter them when they're inflicted – things any decent Healer could take care of. (Though, still useful in a fight as that's a bad time to be incapacitated.) He doesn't have a natural aversion to the Dark Arts. He sees them as just another tool. But, he does want to stay roughly on the right side of the Law. There is no need to give Fudge any more leverage.
> 
> Seph's comments about 'Bright-Eyed Novices' is a subtle tribute to the Field Guide to Neopaganism. I first read it... oh, at least a decade ago or so. Give it a read. It's rather funny and easily findable through Google.
> 
> First floor – In Britain, the floor at ground level is referred to as the "Ground Floor." In the UK, the first floor is the American second floor. Makes a bit of sense, yes? It also makes for confusing conversations when you discuss your living arrangements. My bedroom is on the second floor. When I say that, a Brit would assume my house is three stories tall, instead of only two plus an attic.
> 
> I know many of you reviewed the chapter when it was an author's note. For those who did, I hope to have the next chapter up soon, so you can review this one and that one at the same time, if you want to.
> 
> I do thank you all (again) for your kind words and wishes. Those have been passed on to my mother. 
> 
> This is... almost completely unpolished. I haven't really edited for word choice or grammar. But, on the great grammar debate: 
> 
> Effect/Affect – After having consulted four dictionaries (including Oxford and Webster's), six grammar websites, two textbooks, and my mother – the former English teacher – I have chosen effect for use in 'x had an effect on y.' If you can find a hard answer that says otherwise, I'll change it. Still, I feel a bit better. One of the books had a page and a half discussing which one to use when. It made me feel less like an idiot, at least. Both words can be nouns or verbs, depending on usage, and have remarkably similar definitions when you consult a hard copy dictionary.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer
> 
> I'd think – with an entire website full of disclaimers – you'd get it by now: I don't own anything.
> 
> Note
> 
> If you haven't seen it, CHAPTER SEVEN WAS REPLACED. It is no longer an Author's Note. Go read it. If you have seen it, enjoy chapter eight.
> 
> Once again, little to no polish on this one.

**Chapter Eight**

Moody insisted that he had to have a guard for his trip to the train station. Sephiroth thought he was out of his mind, but no one bothered to listen to him. Even if Voldemort and Friends had known where they were staying, it would be easier to wait until he was at the Platform or actually en route to Hogwarts. He didn't need to search the city. That was the problem with schedules. They made you vulnerable.

If they'd really wanted him safe, they would have Apparated him to Hogsmeade and let him take the Floo to Dumbledore's office. Or just walk from the town to the castle. This was far too predictable. It almost made him wonder if Dumbledore really just wanted him to get on with the whole dying part of living.

When presented with the... unusual group, Sephiroth rolled his eyes. Mad Eye, Lupin, and Tonks were eye-catching on their own. Add in Genesis' flamboyance, and getting through King's Cross and onto the platform without being seen was going to be a lot harder than normal. Still, he couldn't exactly ditch them. With squared shoulders and regal bearing, he tried his best to ignore them and treat them simply as he would treat any honor guard back at Shin-Ra. They were useless, for the most part, but people expected them to be there.

Sirius, relieved by the lack of a fatal warrant, decided to accompany them in his canine form. Harry was delighted, but the memories of Sephiroth were irritated that the mutt was more concerned with being near him in the short term than in clearing his name in the long term. They'd be able to see each other more often if he was freed and, in that eventuality, not have to hide their meetings. He might even be able to avoid returning to the Dursley's.

It felt like it took an age to get off the platform and onto the train. Molly was doting on all her boys. She did, though, pause when she came to him. Her arms wrapped around and she whispered a request that he at least try to stay healthy.

He nodded, but said nothing. He was mostly glad that she didn't try to extract a promise that he stay out of the line of fire. Maybe she was learning that he couldn't keep himself out of the fray? Maybe.

Once on the train, Ron and Hermione separated to go to the Prefect's compartment. The Twins dashed off to do their own thing, and Harry and Ginny ran into Neville. He complained that there was nowhere free. Ginny didn't agree with him, barging into a compartment and asking the only occupant to share.

That was how Harry met Luna Lovegood.

It wasn't the hair. The girl's hair was blond, not brown. The eyes were closer, but hers had been the distinct shade of healthy vegetation and this girl had blue eyes. Not to mention, hers didn't bug out as much.) No, there didn't seem much that should remind him of her unless it was the inherent fragility of the young lady's frame. The simple fact was that Luna reminded him greatly of Aerith. And wasn't that something strange...?

When she first looked up, the girl smiled. She answered a question from Ginny that he'd been too distracted to note and then smiled at him. "You're Harry Potter. And you're not. Is that working well for you?"

He blinked. "Mostly?"

"Good." She turned to Neville. "I don't know who you are."

Neville introduced himself and started showing off his latest birthday present. Apparently, his great-uncle Algie had dubious taste in gifts. Considering that he'd spent most of Neville's childhood trying more and more fatal methods of bringing his magic out, it shouldn't have been a surprise that he lacked both taste and sense. That the Mimbulus mimbletonia used stinky goo as a defense method also shouldn't have been a great shock.

Of course, the moment that they were covered in the substance, there was a knock on the door. It slid open to reveal the Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang. "Uh. Hello, Harry... Bad time?"

He blinked up at her. He had vague recollection of being interested in her last year, before his memories started seesawing between two lifetimes. Honestly, by the time the year was over, his Sephiroth memories had rather brutally shown him that his attraction to her was a mere crush. That wasn't exactly a bad thing, but it had a short shelf life and little potential for a lifetime relationship.

Of course, that didn't make the crush disappear completely. Nor did it make the situation less embarrassing. Given the choice, he wouldn't have run into her with Stinksap covering him from head to toe. "Um. Hi."

She blushed, said she just wanted to drop by and left. He eyed the plant and debated a fireball, before reminding himself that that was supposed to be the way that Genesis solved his problems. He let his head drop back against the seat and ignored everything else for a while. He didn't even open his eyes when Ginny scourgified the compartment.

Ron and Hermione returned, only to complain about Draco being made a Prefect. Harry was rather surprised. With his father's death, shouldn't his influence at Hogwarts have ended? Perhaps it was set up the year before? Or, Snape might have had something to do with it?

Still, Ron took the opportunity to make a few choice comments about the 'Ferret' and his 'Trolls.' The group as a whole found it amusing, but Luna the most. Harry could understand it. He imagined that Malfoy was delighted to tease and belittle an unusual person like her.

Of course, he was shortly introduced to the Quibbler. Luna was happy to talk about it. Amazingly, though she obviously wanted to say something, Hermione was holding it in. If the cover stories were anything to go by, she probably didn't think much of the paper. Sephiroth was of the opinion that it wasn't that much more fictional than the Daily Prophet.

Okay, so he was still holding a grudge.

Luna was in mid-sentence about Stubby Boardman – supposedly Sirius – when the door once again opened. Looking up to see Malfoy, Harry reminded himself that he really needed to get warding down so that the could Fidelius a compartment. It would make it easier to avoid the brat.

"Potter!" Malfoy's arrogance was reaching new heights these days, if the tilt of his thin nose was anything to judge by. "How does it feel to be unworthy to be a Prefect?"

"Like I won't have to lose precious time enforcing rules that I don't really believe in and being generally resented by my peers while laboring away at a job that I'm not even being paid for?"

Malfoy blinked. He obviously hadn't expected that response. Did he honestly think that Harry wanted to be a prefect? "How... cute. You think it's an honor, don't you? I'm sure that to you it must be. After all, it means that you've got your lips firmly attached to..."

Hermione cut him off. "Thank you, Harry, for that sterling assessment."

He shot her an apologetic look, having momentarily forgotten that she and Ron were also Prefects. He turned back to the Slytherin. "Was there anything else you wanted?"

The seething blonde gave him a thoroughly evil glare. "I'll be _dogging_ your footsteps, Potter, so don't you dare step out of line."

Leaning back against his seat again, he exchanged glances with Hermione. She may be irritated about his opinions on her post, but they were both in agreement when it came to danger. Malfoy was potentially aware of Sirius' disguise. This could be trouble.

The rest of the trip passed uneventfully, and the group disembarked for the castle. Grubbly-Plank was calling the first year students to her. Sephiroth frowned at the variation from last year. Where was Hagrid? Out on assignment or injured?

He kept his thoughts to himself, though, until he noticed that the horseless carriages weren't so horseless anymore. They were oddly reptilian, for all that they were horse-shaped. Their black coats clung to a near-skeletal body structure. Bat-like wings flexed as they shifted nervously under his regard.

Seems they knew just how dangerous he was. He wished he knew whether or not they were a threat.

Luna came to stand next to him. Her eyes followed his gaze. "They're thestrals. You can only see them when you've seen someone die. Or caused someone to die in front of you." She looked up at him. "By the way, she says 'Hi.'"

Harry swallowed.

* * *

He didn't have time to debate what Luna meant by 'she.' Honestly, it could have meant a lot of things – like the thestral, the Planet, the moon, his mother, his Mother, or even Aerith. He had insufficient data to really analyze the statement. That didn't stop him from wondering, however, as he settled into his seat at the Gryffindor table.

Hagrid, he noticed, wasn't there. The half-giant had never missed a feast that Harry was aware of. He frowned and hoped that he was all right. Wherever he was, it had to be better than being surrounded by gossiping students. Harry would probably have been happier to be in Wutai again. Or, maybe, immersed in Mako. How did he forget how much he hated dealing with the general public?

The newest addition to the staff table – no doubt, the new Defense teacher – was clad in pink. Lots and lots of pink. She was rather toad-like in the face. Her hair was mousy and curled into a completely unflattering style. She looked like a parody of a kindergarten teacher, were he honest.

It took him a second to place her. She'd been at his trial. He'd been completely delighted to have wrecked her day. He paused and tried to remember her name. _Um... Umbridge. That's what it was._

He quietly shared this revelation with the others. Ron seemed to think it was a joke, commenting on her cardigan. Hermione, on the other hand, turned pensive. A few moments later, she met his eyes and he could tell she was thinking the same thing he was: _Politics rears its ugly head._

The Sorting Hat was brought out. It settled on the stool and started the yearly song.

_Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff,_  
Two of Hogwarts' Great Four,  
Friends, together in darkest times,  
teaching wisest lore. 

_Slytherin and Gryffindor,_  
Keepers of the sharp and brave.  
When besieged from without,  
ever true they stayed. 

_Even with all they shared,_  
they were divided by ideals.  
They didn't intend Darkness to come,  
or to break the Ancients' seals. 

_The darkest Shadow, deep as night,_  
rises to consume.  
Bone of the Father, Blood of the Champion,  
an enemy did exhume. 

_The Crisis plots her wily schemes,_  
seeking to devour.  
Come see where you can help,  
be the Hero of the hour. 

_Omega rises on great wings,_  
his Herald walks the land.  
Darkness summons the Reaper,  
towards premature end. 

_Champions walk amongst you now,_  
fighting for your lives.  
Villains skulk behind you,  
sharpening poisoned knives. 

_Cleave tight to those you love._  
Gain allies - brave and cunning.  
War is on the horizon now -   
soon we'll all be running. 

Harry blinked. He wasn't the only one shocked. None of them had ever heard the Hat sing something like that. Under other circumstances, he would have been amused to see McGonagall standing there with her mouth hanging open. As it was, he was too busy wondering if Vincent still held the Herald of Omega or if Voldemort somehow had managed to infuse himself with Chaos. Or someone else. It could be someone else.

After the... odd song, the Sorting proceeded. More of the kids were afraid of the Hat than usual, but they still got through it rather quickly. Umbridge's party-line speech almost went unnoticed. Sephiroth and Hermione both made a mental note to avoid her as much as possible and quietly went about their routine. With some adjustments for Prefect duties, on Hermione's part.

He walked into the dorm, barely noticing those around him. He ignored all attempts at conversation in the common room and fell on his bed. His attempts to puzzle out the situation – futile with such limited information – were cut short by the arrival of his roommates.

They passed the usual greetings back and forth. Seamus Finnegan complained about his mother not wanting him to return. Apparently, his mother believed the commentary printed in the Prophet that labeled him as an attention-seeking liar.

Sephiroth rolled his eyes. They may have had proof that he hadn't used underage magic. They may have had proof that Fudge screwed up. Still, the Prophet was the Ministry mouthpiece. If they said he was insane to believe that Voldemort was trying to return, then the Prophet printed it. "Seamus, I understand that your mother reads the Prophet. However, I think you know better than to believe that propaganda pamphlet."

Seamus stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, then shook it off. "I just think that things would work better if you told everyone what happened."

"Told you, you mean." His voice was flat and one eyebrow had arched in warning.

"Um." He looked down, slightly flushed. "Well, yeah."

Sephiroth reined in his temper. "I'm not particularly inclined to talk about it. It's not like I was taking a leisurely stroll in the park."

"I know, but... You've changed a lot in the last year, it's kinda scary."

Sephiroth nodded, he had to concede the point. "Remembering a past life will change you. It's... not pleasant to remember how you died."

"And... The hair and eyes?"

"Are the same as that of my past self." He absently played with a few strands. Would it be worth it? He needed allies, but he'd always hated giving after-action reports. "I felt extremely proud as I picked up the Cup. Then, it felt like someone had grabbed my intestines and was using them to hurl me around in circles. It took me a second to realize that it was a Portkey..."

Seamus sat and listened. Sephiroth didn't know it, but he'd always been a decent storyteller. All he knew was that the troops tended to sit up and listen when he discussed what had happened on a particular mission. He thought it was just respect.

As it was, he had an enraptured audience. He skipped the gorier description of blood and viscera, keeping simply to a calm recitation of the blows delivered. Even so, his friends paled at the realization that he'd taken on a dozen Death Eaters and Voldemort. Scarier still, he was the only one to walk away from that fight.

Finally, he was allowed to relax back down on his mattress. He erected a silencing bubble around the bed. He had no doubt that he was going to have a restless night again, and didn't want to inflict it on his friends. He closed his eyes and let his mental and physical exhaustion carry him off.

He didn't realize that all four of his roommates noticed the spell.

* * *

On the surface, any spy agency looks like a regular office. There are cubicles for the entry-level employees, offices for management, and corner offices with secretaries for the supposedly special members of the workforce. In one such corner office, the person called 'M' in most of the Bond movies – and who had taken on that nom de guerre as something of a joke – was seething.

"You mean to tell me, that this... person... not only has a biological weapon that contains diseases not seen since before the Black Plague, but that he deploys it by _belching?_ Not only that, but he is apparently immune to them and we have literally no idea who he is?"

"Yes, Ma'am." The junior agent, a man barely out of school to look at him, fidgeted in his chair before running a hand nervously through his tousled brown hair.

She looked down her nose at the child that had found what seven senior analysts had missed. She wasn't really angry with him, but he was convenient and expected to be treated to upper management's displays of temper, anyway. "Do not 'ma'am' me, young man." She tapped the intercom. "Get the senior analysts in the conference room for a meeting."

She flipped it back off and looked at him. Her smile was shark-like. "You are going to join us and tell all the senior agents precisely where they went wrong. Go. Bring your evidence."

He shuddered as he left the office and wondered if it was too late to transfer to a safer job. Cleaning septic tanks sounded interesting and was probably healthier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Select bits of dialogue and the majority of this chapters events are from the book. I didn't bother to mark them, but you should be easily able to find them yourself if you look. Really, it is a bit difficult to put a new spin on a train rolling down some tracks. So, I changed up the conversations a little. 
> 
> About his temper: Yes, Sephiroth has one. He also, unlike Harry, has great experience at keeping it contained. He's especially good at it in circumstances that can give him a tactical advantage. They're just kids, but his friends can be used – yes, used – to convince their parents. Barring that, they can become cannon fodder if needed. It's cold, but the life of a General led to him thinking in those terms.
> 
> Malfoy operates on an inferior playing field now. He's still – in spite of Daddy's death – acting as a child. Heck, considering how some people behave after losing a parent, he may have even regressed. (Natural comfort seeking behavior.) Sephiroth has no time for it, and will shut him down as needed. He sees no need to kill him yet, but is watching to make sure that he doesn't grow beyond being a nuisance.
> 
> On a side note, am I the only one that thinks Hojo locking Nanaki in with Aerith was a joke on Hojo's part? A sick joke, but a joke. The man was a scientist. I'm sure he knew better than to believe that the two could interbreed without careful intervention. Even barring that, I'm sure that he would have been more likely to artificially inseminate her. All the better to control the process, and – perhaps – implant extra eggs from the IVF in surrogates.
> 
> SPOILER: Luna is not Aerith.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> **Disclaimer**
> 
> Arrr... I no be tha' Dread Pirate Roberts. I ha'e no intenti'n o' claimin' this booty as me own! Arrrr.
> 
> **Note**
> 
> Okay, so... 3am on 31st of July, I went to FFN and clicked on story stats. Across the board – all stories – I have 2.9K hits. For just the 30th of July. After my heart attack, I was... amazed? Grateful? All of the above? Yes. All of the above. 
> 
> For Sephiroth Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, across FFN and AO3, we have a grand total of (drumroll) 30123 hits. The only story I have with more hits is Bind the Serpent, at over 118k. That story has been up (and unfinished) for seven years. This one has only been up since October. Seeing that comparison made me immediately itch to start writing the next chapter.
> 
> So, wow. All of you. Consider yourself hugged, pastries on the sideboard (save me a cream cheese danish!), and let's settle in with some drinks. If what I'm feeling right now is anything to go on, this story is going to be a wild ride by the time it's through. 

Contrary to all his expectations, Harry found that his dorm mates were surprisingly kind to him the next morning. He didn't know that they'd seen him tossing and turning the night before as he was gripped by his memories of Genesis' degradation and his various deaths at Cloud's hands. He didn't know that they'd talked, long into the night, about what it must be like to be able to remember your own untimely demise. He didn't know that Ron had spoken, uncharacteristically eloquently, about how his life had been – how his Hogwarts career had been – up to that point.

All he knew, as they descended upon breakfast like a pack of ravening wolves, was that they had waited for him. They had clustered around him on the trip to the Great Hall, shielding him from the stares of those who would believe that the Daily Prophet. Even as he ate, glares from his fellow Gryffindors frightened away all but the most determined of antagonists. He was to be left in peace, as far as they were concerned.

He was rather embarrassed by just how much it warmed him.

Still, as he found himself drawn into conversation with Ron and the rest of the Quidditch team, he allowed himself to forget for a few delightful minutes that the world rested on his shoulders. Again. Damn the Fates. Damn the Cetra, too!

Of course, no morning could be perfect. Hermione was in a right tizzy about the Twins. They were offering to pay other students to test their prank products for them. She found it – at best – unethical.

Sephiroth was less than surprised. Human testing was not, after all, a reality that he was unfamiliar with. He had been the guinea pig in his last life. Though, he found her concern unwarranted. If anyone was stupid enough to accept the Twin's money for being a lab rat, then they shouldn't live long enough to procreate, anyway.

He was smart enough not to tell Hermione that.

History of Magic was as boring as usual. Cho Chang, once again, tried to engage him in conversation shortly afterwards. He was more than a little amazed at himself. He just wasn't interested in her anymore. It took him a while to figure out why but, when he did, he nearly tripped over his own feet.

Ron's hand caught his arm to steady him. He glanced up and tossed his friend an appreciative smile, and sank back into his thoughts. She'd turned him down. It may not have been deliberate, but she'd made her preference for Diggory clear. So what if the two weren't dating now? He wasn't going to be anyone's second choice.

He shrugged to himself. Not like he had time for it right now, anyway. He had Voldemort, the strange grown presences in the Lifestream, whatever Dumbledore was planning to inflict on him this year, classes, and his own personal studies to consider. Somewhere in there, he had to find time to keep up his sword training. His plate was quite full. Not to mention that most school romances didn't survive graduation. It would be a waste of time on top of everything else.

On the bright side, Ron's rant about the Tornados drove Cho off before he had to find a way to let her down gently. He'd still have to, eventually. For now, though, he could just get to class and not have to worry about it.

Hermione paused to adjust the strap on her bag, and he let himself wander a little forward with Ron before he stopped to wait. "Ron?" At his curious look, he continued, "Can you... Do you think you can... Oh, hell..." He scrabbled his hand through his hair.

"What is it, mate?"

"I'm just... with everything going on, I don't really want to date right now. Is there some way to keep the girls from..."

Ron snorted. "Being girls?" Harry nodded. "Don't think so. I could ask Bill or Charlie?"

Harry snorted. "Bill deals with ancient curses, and Charlie only handles dragons. Girls are a lot scarier."

Hermione caught up with them then, and looked very baffled at Ron's laughing agreement. His refusal to tell her what they were talking about had her in a huff for most of Potions.

* * *

Amazingly, Potions wasn't that bad a class. For whatever reason, Snape seemed determined to ignore him. That was just fine with Harry. He had a feeling that they'd get along a lot better if they just spent the next few years forgetting that each other existed.

The Gryffindors once again grouped around him for lunch, protecting him. He fought down his shock and concealed his pleased smile. Having people actually care enough to do something that he really needed was... strange. He could get used to it.

As it was too late for him to change his classes, he was still stuck in Divination. Dream interpretation was not something he wanted to dabble in right now. He didn't have dreams. He had nightmarish memories that stole his peace and shattered his rest. Fortunately, Ron jumped in with a strange story about chasing a marshmallow snitch while riding a stuffed dragon.

Sephiroth knew that it was completely fiction. He made a mental note to buy Ron a lorry full of chocolate frogs in appreciation. Trying to interpret that strange dream kept them snickering for the rest of their time in Divination.

Their last class of the day, though, was the one he was dreading: Defense Against the Dark Arts as taught by a Ministry stooge. He would say that he was afraid it was going to be even worse than he thought, but he wasn't sure anyone's teaching could be worse than he was expecting.

They settled in their seats and soon found themselves being treated like six year olds. He couldn't remember the last time he had to greet a teacher in chorus with the rest of his class. It was degrading and infuriating. What was worse, he could tell that Umbridge was trying for that very reaction. He took a deep breath and let it out. _Suck it up, SOLDIER._

She started with how woefully behind they were in the theory of defense. Then she had them copying down the course aims. Okay, so there were a few gems in the course goals. Learning when it was legal to take action was a good thing. He just didn't think that they needed to spend an entire year on it.

She told them to read the first chapter of their books and then went to her desk. He looked at the tome, feeling no small amount of disgust. The thing was... insulting. He'd browsed it while he was at Grimmauld Place. The instructions within basically boiled down to 'get away' and 'wait for an Auror.'

When facing dark wizards, it was about as useful as putting on a scarf to ward off a vampire.

Of course, that's when Hermione started questioning the so-called professor about when they were actually going to do practical work. The resulting discussion drew almost all of the class in. None of them could believe that any member of the Ministry actually thought that a spell could be mastered the first time through - even with sufficient understanding of the theory.

Harry, to Hermione's dismay, remained quiet until Umbridge tried to assert that there was no danger that they need concern themselves about. That's when he – and didn't he feel like a six year old again – put his hand in the air. When she called upon him, his voice was hard and his eyes were cold. "So, you're saying that there are no vampires, werewolves, nundu, dementors or anything else out there in the world that wants to hurt us. I'd think someone that fought so hard to add new creature legislation would know better."

She tried to cut him off, but he continued. "Not only that, if our course is to be taught in this manner from here on, then you are crippling the Ministry and the economy. A NEWT in Defense is required for Auror training, Curse Breaking, and all sorts of other positions. Some of which you are asserting that we need to rely on to keep us safe.

"So, which is it? Are you a patriot – training us to meet and exceed the standards set by the Ministry, or are you a traitor – weakening it from within?"

He was not surprised to be sent to McGonagall with a note and a detention. His stern Head of House was not pleased that he'd managed to get himself a detention this early in the term. She was, if the way her lips twitched was any indication, very amused to hear what he'd done to earn it. "You accused the Undersecretary of subverting the Ministry?"

"Yes, professor."

She pressed her lips together tightly for a moment and settled her trembling hands on her desk. "The detention stands, Mister Potter. Do try not to do this again."

"Yes, professor." Taking it as a dismissal, he exited the room. A split second after he closed the door behind him, he was startled to hear almost hysterical laughter ring out on the other side of it. He grinned. So, she wasn't as upset with him as he'd thought. Good to know.

* * *

Dinner was both pleasant and unpleasant. Some students were delighted that someone had taken on the woman that was going to ruin their scores. It was mostly the Ravenclaws, but there were a few others that seemed pleased. Other students were whispering about what crazy thing he would do next. He was halfway inclined to let out his more insane memories. Their whispers were tempting him to submerge himself in them and see how the castle would look on fire, the walls glistening with blood.

He shook his head to clear it. He would not do that. Never again. He was never, ever going to kill the innocent again without a damned good reason. One Nibelheim was enough.

After dinner, they made their way back to the common room for a few minutes of peace. It was only a few minutes, though, as Hermione was soon laying into the Twins for their prank testing. They went wide-eyed and pale when she threatened to tell Molly what they were doing. Sephiroth found himself grinning. At least the commotion was entertaining, for a while.

When it ended, he looked at his homework and sighed before settling in to battle his way through it.

* * *

The next day was rainy and miserable. The downright depressing atmosphere made it difficult to rise in time for breakfast, but they managed. They slogged through Transfiguration and Charms, then ensconced themselves in the library for the majority of lunch. Fortunately, the rain let up by the time they made it to Care of Magical Creatures.

Grubbly-Plank had them work with bowtruckles for the afternoon. Harry stubbornly refused to admit that she was a better teacher than Hagrid, only conceding that she had a different style. Hermione felt the need to point out that most would consider the less-dangerous manner to be better. Well, until he pointed out that Umbridge was supposedly teaching in a 'less-dangerous manner.'

The day rounded out with Herbology. They were rather aromatic when they were done. The stench of dragon dung clung to their robes and skin. With a grin, he realized he wasn't going to have time for a shower if he wanted to eat before detention. The best part was that he could honestly say that Umbridge had brought the smell on herself.

He quickly devoured his food and headed for the toad's inner sanctum. His first thought, on entering the office, was that the woman liked pink entirely too much. It looked like an advertisement for a stomach soother. And what was with the kitten plates? Who could think with all that meowing?

Cats were nice. He kind of liked them. But... there had to be two hundred plates in here.

Soon, he was sitting in a chair with a quill and no ink. Lines. He had to write, 'I will respect Ministry workers' until she decided he could stop. After a brief hesitation, he smirked. She didn't say what language it had to be in.

With unhurried strokes of the quill, he translated the sentence into Wutain. He quirked on eyebrow as it carved into his hand. Interesting. The next version, he did in Sephiroth's native dialect. The version after that was English. Then, he used what little he remembered of the Cetra tongue.

As he cycled through the languages, he was rather saddened that they were the only ones he was really fluent in. Of course, then he decided to translate all of them into a Turk Cypher. Then, into one of the many SOLDIER cyphers. Then he translated all of it into Ancient Runes, cypher and all. Then, he started getting really creative with it.

Umbridge, he noticed, had stopped her smug staring. Now, she was looking at him with her mouth hanging slightly open. Probably, he reflected, because his blood was eating through the paper, the desk and starting to work on the floor. It just slid off of him when it impacted his legs.

He went back to writing.

He was on the twenty-third permutation when she finally gasped out, "Stop that right now!"

By this time, the parchment was sitting in his lap. The desk had completely melted out from under the roll. He casually raised his head. "Stop what, professor?"

"Whatever you're doing to damage school property!" Her face was purpling. He wondered, idly, if she would have a stroke.

She started to speak again at his continued silence, but quieted when he held out his hand over the mess. The fluid glowed vivid, Lifestream green and then filled with tainted shadows for a moment before forming into a border-collie-sized Shadow Creeper. It lifted its bony face and lashed its tail for a moment, scenting the air and giving a predatory rumble when it spotted the Professor. The nasty hook on the end of the appendage caught the light menacingly.

"You wanted my blood, Madam Umbridge." He smiled at her, a shark's wicked grin – full of teeth and malice. "Now, what do you propose to do with it?"

"Y-you're using t-the D-Dark A-arts!" The creature crept forward, claws clicking on the stone. The acrid scent of ammonia flooded the room as Umbridge lost control of some fairly important bodily functions.

He raised one eyebrow. "Hardly. You see, Madam, the Dark Arts are what the Ministry says they are and this," he gestured at the Creeper, "isn't in any Ministry law. I checked."

She started to inch towards the door. The Creeper bared its fangs and she froze. "I wouldn't run, Madam. That only incites a predator. And, I think we all know who the predator is in this room."

She swallowed. "T-the Minister..."

"Would never find your corpse." He cocked his head in mock thought. "Hard to have a trial with no body to prove a crime even happened."

He stood, moving gracefully into her personal space. She backed up into a corner, only for him to follow and trap her there. She had to look up to meet his eyes, and could barely bring herself to do so. Her entire body was shaking.

His voice was a maliciously sensual purr when he spoke again, "What did you intend to use my blood for?"

Trapped in the alien green of his gaze, she couldn't help but answer. Anything to get this creature away from her! "C-control. B-binding."

He leaned his head down, breath scalding hot on her face. "Blood magic, then? How dreadfully unimaginative." He stepped back, the sudden freedom from his menacing presence causing her to nearly collapse. His tone had changed to an almost casual one, as if they were having a conversation over afternoon tea. "Still, I suppose that is what I should have expected from a bureaucrat."

"Don't worry. I'm not going to kill you." He gestured and the Creeper vanished in an explosion of darkness. He pulled his wand. "Of course, I can't have you remember this, either. I've studied the theory of the Obliviate spell extensively these last few days. Let's see if I can get it right on the first try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting for this moment for the entire story. The Detention. Too bad the idiot didn't know what was in Seph's blood, huh?
> 
> And, yes, we get to see a little of Seph's mania. She really was starting to push his buttons. He put up with one crazed authority figure torturing him. He isn't going to allow it to happen again. It is a visceral, reflex response to kill, maim or torture anyone that tries. 
> 
> At least he manages to keep a tight enough rein on it that he doesn't physically hurt her. Right?... Um... right. By the time he's through... Well, you'll see.
> 
> Noticed the lack of Malfoy this chapter? He's regrouping and trying to decide how to deal with the new Potter. Whatever he chooses is probably going to be a mistake, but at least he's taking the time to think about it. Poor kid.
> 
> I am, as I think I previously mentioned, re-reading the book as I write this. We're at about one third through it at this point. We're a little over halfway through chapter 13 in the book.
> 
> By request, we have a little more appreciation for Ron this chapter. I wasn't intending to exclude him, but Harry is in a bit more of a Hermione-type head space right now. He does not want to lose anyone to his various enemies, so is studying and practicing harder than he has before (in this life). He'll balance out soon enough. 
> 
> I have had a half-way question on my update schedule. Before mom's cancer cropped up, I was trying to update at least one story, once a week. Now, it's whenever I have a few minutes to write that doesn't interfere with taking care of her. I think you'll notice that my chapters are just as long, but not as polished. I will eventually go back and polish them, but it may be quite a while. 
> 
> In the meantime, I'm writing whatever catches my attention, whenever it catches my attention. This week, you're getting a third chapter of this story. Next week, you might get a chapter or two of Possible Meeting or – unlikely – one of Lord of Nightmares. It just depends on where my head goes.
> 
> These last few days, writing has seriously cut into my sleep schedule. (I was awake 22+ hours yesterday and then only slept for about four.) With that in mind, I may take a day or two to rest before typing anything else.
> 
> Oh, and I suggest checking out the Shadow Creeper on the Final Fantasy Wiki. Look at the picture of the model... I wouldn't want one of those in my office!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer**
> 
> C'mon, I am soooo getting tired of having to say I don't own any of this.
> 
> **Note**
> 
> Okay, so I finally found the other story that likened the tasks in the Tri-Wiz to the Elements. You have no idea how much searching I had to do to find it. It's on Twisting the Hellmouth. It's called WW-They-D?, and it's by mmooch. 
> 
> I heartily recommend, mmooch's writing by the way. Extremely good writer.
> 
> Meanwhile, here is the dreaded tenth chapter. I haven't got much, due to all the craziness around here, but it's something – right?

# Ten

Delores Jane Umbridge was having an.. off day. First, she woke up with no real memories of the night before. She knew that she'd had the Potter boy for detention and knew that he'd completed it to her satisfaction. She could not, however, find where she'd stashed the (literally) bloody parchment no matter how hard she looked. It was like it had never existed, melted, or evaporated into thin air or something!

Secondly, her office was cleaner than it had ever been. The floor, especially. And... there was a brand new student desk where she normally put the children in detention. She knew it was new, since the old one had had some distinctive carving on the top courtesy of those same delinquents.

Then, there was her afternoon tea. Every time she saw a pot, she started having the irresistible urge to hum a Muggle song involving handles and spouts. She wasn't sure why. She certainly didn't like Muggles and she definitely didn't think herself a teapot. Giving into the urge to hum, though, led to the urge to sing. She'd narrowly avoided witnesses to her disgraceful behavior.

Finally, she couldn't seem to find the Potter brat anywhere. It was like he had vanished. The students, every time she asked (demanded) that they tell her where he was, looked at her like she was several dozen feathers short of an owl. The last group had even had the audacity to laugh at her! Well, she'd just had to give them detention after that, hadn't she?

The truly weird thing was that none of them showed up, even though someone kept knocking on her office door.

* * *

Harry was the only one in his dorm when he settled onto his bed. He stretched out with his Care text, but couldn't keep his mind on the subject. He was having too much fun reliving the effects of his work on Umbridge. His spells were driving their Defense Antagonist insane.

She'd spent almost the entirety of her day looking for him. He'd spent most of that time walking behind her under a very special Notice-Me-Not spell. All the other sentient beings in the school (including the paintings and elves) could see and hear him. Umbridge, on the other hand, couldn't find hide nor hair. At one point, he'd even shouted that he was 'right here' in her ear.

He made a mental note to thank Hermione for finding that spell in the Black library.

As it was, he'd made several of his fellow students laugh and gotten them detention. That hadn't been what he'd intended, so he'd surreptitiously cast the same spells on them the moment her back was turned. The look on her face when she'd kept opening the door and finding no one there! He gave a wicked grin as he reclined on his pillow. It was almost as good as the student's expressions when she'd then proceeded to slam the door in their faces.

A breeze picked up in the room and he looked to the open window. "It took you long enough to get here."

"The wards are stronger than the ones on Diagon. It took quite a few tries to get past them. I believe I've eaten roughly a hundred burritos in the last four days." Genesis looked more than a bit green. With the possible exception of some Wutain fare, he had never been the greatest fan of fast food. "They are disgusting things. Why did the wards have to give me a craving for them?"

Harry shrugged and rolled onto his side, facing him with head propped on one hand. He couldn't help the chuckle. "I have seen you wade through a battlefield – almost knee-deep in blood, shit and piss – without batting an eyelid, but burritos are disgusting?"

"Have you ever actually looked at re-fried beans? Have you considered what it looks like you're eating?"

He started to respond, then paused to picture them. "I concede the point." He patted the empty space on the bed. "Otherwise, was your trip uneventful?"

Genesis settled next to him, leaning back against the headboard. "Fortunately. I did almost wind up in a small skirmish with some sort of skeletal horse, but it turned out it just wanted the remainder of my last burrito. It was rather a relief to get rid of the thing. How are things going here?"

Sephiroth chuckled, imagining a Thestral poking through Gen's pockets for a bit of Mexican food. "A little better than expected. I believe the Defense Idiot is once again going to try to kill me this year. Snape is oddly civil, and Dumbledore is avoiding me. Considering that I've traded one openly-hostile teacher that refuses to budge from his position as Potions Professor for one that will probably be dead or incapacitated at the end of the year? I'm calling it a victory.

"Oh, and they're called Thestrals."

Genesis nodded his acknowledgment. "I've picked up a room at the Hog's Head. The Three Broomsticks probably would have been a cleaner place, but the proprietor seemed a bit overly concerned with my business in town."

Sephiroth snickered. "Are you sure it was your business that she was interested in? Most wizards aren't exactly what I'd assume a woman would consider attractive."

Genesis laughed. "Either way, it's probably better that I'm not in that particular Inn. If she wanted to interest herself in my business, I would be less than pleased. However, I think I'd be more unhappy to have a sexually interested witch with unrestricted access to my sleeping quarters. Remember that mess in Costa Del Sol?"

Harry groaned and flopped back on his pillow. "Don't remind me. I never want to be chased out a second story window by half-dressed females again. Not to mention the hassle of replacing most of our gear."

"Lazard's expression was worth it." Gen tugged Sephiroth's pillow to get him to shift a bit, then stretched out to take advantage of the acquired space for his head.

"Director Lazard's expression? That was the only time I've ever seen Tseng _have_ an expression. I think that blasted Turk might have even laughed a little. He had less emotion on his face when I stabbed him."

Genesis yawned and Sephiroth turned his head to eye him. "Go to sleep. I'll spell the curtains shut and you can leave after we head for classes. Come back by tomorrow night, though. I'll have something for you to do."

"Mmmm." Genesis barely responded before his breathing evened out.

* * *

Ron, to Harry's joy, was now on the Quidditch team. The boy had narrowly defeated Cormac McLaggen for the Keeper position. If he were honest, he'd admit that part of his joy was in not having to deal with McLaggen for longer than he had to. The other Gryffindor was a prat of the highest order.

On the downside, Hermione kept pestering him about his detention and about helping her make clothes for the elves. The first, he certainly didn't want to tell her about. He had no doubt that she'd be disappointed in him for treating an authority figure that way. Even if Umbridge barely – or only technically – qualified. The second... there were some things he'd refused to learn, even as a SOLDIER.

Mending his clothes in the field had been one thing. Knitting was something entirely different, thank you.

Finally, he woke up early enough to have a few moments to himself. He settled in a squashy chair by the fire and started to work on a letter that he'd intended to write days ago.

_Dear Padfoot,_

_I hope things are going well for you. The school year has been quite educational thus far. I am learning more than I ever wanted to learn about the Ministry of Magic and the qualifications of their employees. Professor Umbridge reminds me of Walburga. Though, I rather think that your mother was a bit more personable. My recent detention with her highlighted the true competency of our governmental officials._

_Hagrid – our Care of Magical Creatures Teacher – is on sabbatical at the moment. We all miss him and are praying for his safe and quick return. I look forward to hearing tales of his adventures, as I'm sure that they will be fascinating._

_Another tale that I'm certain I will find fascinating is the account of how you earned your name. A step by step retelling would be appreciated._

_Hedwig is currently feeling out of sorts, rather twitchy and as if she's being watched, so I'm going to send this along with a different courier. You may, of course, use the same method to return any messages._

_Best wishes and all that sentimental stuff,_

_Harry_

He reviewed the missive one last time. Complaint about Umbridge? Check. Query on what the heck Hagrid is doing? Check. Request to pass on Animagus instructions? Check. Hopefully, it was just ambiguous enough to keep anyone else reading it from guessing what he wanted, but would still allow Sirius to decipher the underlying meaning... Considering Umbridge's intelligence, he could have probably printed it out explicitly in fifty-seven foot tall block letters and she wouldn't be able to understand. But, it was best to be at least a little cautious. _Note to self: Have Genesis teach Sirius some of our old Ciphers._

A quick spell dried the ink and he hurriedly ran upstairs to tuck the letter into one of the more securely hidden areas of his trunk. Given the average competency Umbridge had demonstrated, he was fairly certain it was safe there for the moment. Unless, of course, she decided to call in Aurors or Curse Breakers. Still, it would have to do.

* * *

Quidditch practice that Saturday was all right, seeing as Ron was brand new to the team. Katie accidentally swallowed a Weasley prank product, though, and wound up in the hospital wing with a serious nosebleed. Unfortunately, Hermione and Ron wound up in a huge row about her apparent lack of faith in him when she tried to commiserate. He was very careful not to get dragged into it, but did absently wish for some popcorn.

Sephiroth sat and assisted Ron with his almost-late homework for the rest of the day. He wanted to chastise his friend for his lack of work ethic, but knew that it wouldn't go over well. It would be a spark on oil-soaked tinder after the argument with Hermione. Fortunately, his own homework was already done, so helping Ron with it was no real problem.

Sadly, that spark came in spite of his best attempts at keeping the peace. A letter from Percy disrupted their routine the next day. Ron read the missive and passed it to him without a word. His friend's face was already starting to turn red, even before Sephiroth hit the first paragraph. By the time he finished, he could see that this was going to be a problem.

"Well, Ron, if you wish to 'sever ties' with the potentially dangerous and insane psychotic, I promise that he will do his best to respect your wishes. Though, I would hope that you wouldn't stoop to kowtowing to a Ministry Toad." He flashed a small smile, hoping to turn it into a joke but failing. Part of him had been afraid for years that Ron would drop him as a friend. The debacle surrounding the Tri-Wizard Tournament hadn't helped.

Ron took the parchment and tore it into tiny bits of confetti before tossing the whole mess – less a few pieces that fled for their lives – into the fire. His already pinked face turned even redder as he ranted about his brother being a git. Sephiroth let him vent, exchanging a resigned look with Hermione while he waited. At least Ron wasn't taking it out on either of them, though the former SOLDIER did note that he needed to teach the youngest male Weasley a few things about proper swearing.

Rant completed and anger drained out of him, Ron collapsed into a chair. Hermione sighed and patted his shoulder. "It'll be okay. I know that he'll come around eventually."

"I hope so, I really hope so." Neither knew what to say to that. Ron's voice was so full of despair that it broke even Sephiroth's heart.

* * *

On an unnamed beach, over ten thousand miles to the South of Hogwarts, the wind picked up and the sky darkened ominously. Close as it was to Antarctica, the wind caught and lifted tiny ice particles from the ground, only for them to sparkle like glitter as lightning split the air nearby. The wind increased speed to form a small and stationary – but incredibly powerful – tornado. The winds and ice shards could have shredded any living being that came within range. Fortunately, no one was nearby on the tiny island.

The ground below the eye of the vortex split and glowing green liquid bubbled up briefly before receding to leave a small crack in the earth behind. The average listener would miss the grunts of exertion emanating from the jagged hole, as the wind howled around it. A large hand grabbed the edge. Hard flexes of muscle hauled a large man out of the opening, only to roll onto the ground and almost out of the eye of the storm and into the deadly wind.

He rolled again – away from the eye wall – coming to rest on his side as he vomited out more of the green fluid, clearing both his lungs and his digestive tract. The winds died down, becoming a gentle breeze that stirred sweat and Mako-soaked black hair while he lay there gasping from exertion. Green drenched wings twitched and shook, pure instinct flinging the deadly Mako from the limbs. More slowly dripped off the rest of his naked skin.

His breathing slowed. There was one shudder in reaction to his muscles finally releasing most of their tension. There was a second shudder as his body registered the chill around him. Instinct called clothing to him: the blue-black of a SOLDIER, First Class. There was a third shudder as his nervous system sent one last pulse of energy through itself, effectively resetting his body. His eyes snapped open to reveal their ancient, Mako-enhanced blue.

He let out a low groan as he sat up to rub his strong jaw, dislodging the small pebbles that had tried to wedge themselves into his skin. He slowly stood, testing his balance, then looked left and right before setting his gaze on a distant point. Sephiroth was that way and he was in pain.

His wide shoulders straightened. His wings snapped out wide. With a powerful clench of muscles, they slammed down to propel him into the sky. Ten thousand miles wasn't terribly far. He hoped that they'd be happy to see him again.

Angeal Hewley was back.

* * *

Dumbledore prowled his office, frowning. Things were not going as they were expected to go. Yes, Harry got detention... but not for the reason that he would have assumed. According to all the reports, the boy was far more in control of himself than Dumbledore had ever thought he would be. He was not as weak and meek as he had been the last four years. The signs of abuse were still there in some of his reactions...

Those damned Dursleys. Absolute destruction would be too good for them.

Still, the boy had a past life. And, didn't he curse the Prophet for telling that to all and sundry! Harry really shouldn't have revealed something so useful. It was another potential advantage wasted... Dumbledore was confident that he could have gotten the charges dropped. With a little coaching, Mrs. Figg would have been an excellent witness.

The returned memories explained some of the change in Harry, though the details of that life were elusive to the Headmaster. He couldn't ask the boy, and he was being remarkably tight-lipped with any information regarding his previous experiences. There were comments here and there, but nothing that allowed him to actually know the mind that now lurked behind those strange eyes. How was he supposed to maneuver things to protect the child (and, were he ever completely honest, for the so-called _Greater Good_ ), if he couldn't predict him?

He couldn't sit down with the boy and talk, not with the threat of Tom Riddle possessing the child's mind. It would be far too much of a temptation for Tom, were he given the opportunity to mount a surprise attack. And, it wasn't like he could openly call Harry to his office for a chat. Even if Tom didn't attack, Umbridge would surely find a way to use it against him.

He settled into his chair and eyed Fawkes. The phoenix gave a trilling little laugh, as if rebuking him for worrying too much. But, how could he not worry? Even the Sorting Hat was warning people now...

* * *

Beneath the Bermuda Triangle, a second pair of ancient eyes opened and surveyed the underwater environment. They glowed vivid gold. _Do you feel that, Host? The Change that approaches? The Darkness is rising and Champions are rising to face it. Should we join them? Are We needed?... No, not yet._

His Host, still silent after all of these years, said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. Not as long as I'd like and a bit filler, but some things did get done. Genesis has arrived. Percy is a git. Sirius gets a bit more of an open letter from Harry, since people are more pissed that he never had a trial than about his supposed 'betrayal.' Angeal is here. Dumbles is bumbling about baffled, but at least we heard from him. I'll check in on Voldie next time. 
> 
> Yes, Dumbles has had a chance to read the Prophet and talk to the Order. They're not telling him much, because Harry hasn't spoken to them about much of his previous life. They know he was a SOLDIER and a General, that there's another system of magic, and that Genesis is apparently a friend from that previous life. That's about it, really. 
> 
> If Dumbledore had any knowledge of tactics, it might be enough to predict – but the man was a politician, not a General. His only attempts in the book were laughable and incompetent at best. At worst, they were grounds for assuming that he was conspiring with the enemy. (Desk jockeys on guard duty? Really? And not even ones that are in positions that require combat training?) He was the worst kind of REMF: the kind that gets people killed for no good reason. Arthur could have very easily died that night, if Harry hadn't intervened.
> 
> Virtual cookies, ice cream or flowers (your choice) for anyone that recognizes the character beneath the ocean.
> 
> For those of you who are following our medical saga – yes, I'm upgrading it to saga – mom's surgery was scheduled for Friday (yesterday). It was supposed to be a full hysterectomy with ovariectomy – or however that's spelled. In short, she was supposed to lose her womb and both ovaries. 
> 
> Unfortunately, the cancer was apparently also in her colon. For whatever reason, I'm not too clear on it, the doctor did not decide to do the original surgery and a colectomy. A friend pointed out that he may have decided that she was too weakened at the moment for that kind of shock. Whatever his reasons, she is going back onto the chemo and hopefully it will shrink it down to a manageable size.
> 
> Mom is on blood thinners, so I had to very carefully monitor that and I had to give her injections prior to surgery. (Yikes!) There are some things that you never want to do for family members, but you learn to anyway. This is one of them, I suppose. Ironically, I think I was more freaked/worried about injecting her than she was about me injecting her. She laughingly commented that it apparently did hurt me more than her, since she barely felt it.
> 
> Yeah. And the force used to pierce human skin? There's a reason the nurses snap their wrists (and the needle) into you. It takes work. Logical, I suppose, since it's there to keep stuff out... and in.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer**
> 
>  
> 
> Don't own it. Never have owned it. Peeps, if that's not obvious...
> 
>  
> 
> **Note**
> 
>  
> 
> In just five hours, this one story had over one hundred visitors after posting the last chapter. Not hits, but unique visitors. It's enough to turn your head a bit.
> 
> I forgot to credit this last chapter: The idea of Umbridge compulsively humming/singing "I'm a Little Teapot," was suggested by Daughter of Jehova on FFN. Credit for the love potion and the singing in this chapter goes to any number of fan fictions I've read. And, yes, I have a full-fledged LIST of pranks to use on Umbridge in this story. I wonder if I'll get through them all? We'll see.

# Eleven

Harry was less than pleased with his Godfather. There were better ways to maintain contact than risking a Floo call. They had Genesis, for starters, who was happy to carry letters back and forth. There also had to be some other method of communication that he could have used. Instead, the idiot had kept popping into the common room fireplace every hour.

Was he trying to get caught? He didn't belabor the point, though. If he did, well... Adding time to their illegal Floo connection would only make it more likely that they would be discovered.

Sirius' explanation of what was happening with the lessons and why Umbridge was assigned had made Harry bristle. Okay, so he had his own suspicions about the old man's goal's. Crippling the education of an entire school was not the way to handle it. How did Fudge intend to get re-elected when all the members of the Wizengamot realized that he was the reason their kids failed their OWLs and NEWTs?

Making Umbridge into Hogwart's High Inquisitor struck him as yet another example of pure, blind stupidity. A school full of witches and wizards and you want to name someone an 'Inquisitor?' That was insane. Of course, with Binn's teaching history, they may have forgotten that little thing called the Inquisition. The parents were supposedly loving it – if you believed the Daily Prophet.

Umbridge was less than impressed by the various bits of armor in the castle singing 'The Inquisition Song' from History of the World, Part I every time she passed. Sephiroth thought it was a marvelous prank. He couldn't, sadly, take credit for it. It seems Genesis had used his new-found freedom to visit in order to arrange a meeting with the Weasley twins. Where Genesis had seen the movie perplexed him a little, but not enough to actually ask.

Harry did manage to get detention again, this time for inquiring if she had "even a passing acquaintance with that revolutionary point of view called reality."

He didn't bother to show up. He made liberal use of spells and Cloak so that she couldn't find him. The other teachers didn't comment when they saw him suddenly appear in their classes, though some seemed highly amused. At least, if Flitwick giggling his way through the lecture was anything to go by.

The inspection of the lessons had him fighting not to take the sharp edge of Masamune to her neck. If she'd given him even the slightest excuse... Sadly, even he couldn't turn being an uptight, self-important, Zenene's prostitute (Genesis' description of her) into justification. Though, he did have to feel sorry for the forest of redwoods that was apparently growing in her orifices. Maybe they would believe a mercy killing?

* * *

Of course, all of Gryffindor found McGonagall's handling of the 'inspection' to be hilarious. It was rather pleasant to see Umbridge get verbally smacked down. Harry fought to keep his snickers contained, even as the woman sputtered at the implication that her grasp of the obvious was lacking.

The Care inspection was particularly annoying. Malfoy may be leaving him alone for the moment, but he just knew that the little ferret was going to get Hagrid in trouble somehow. He earned himself yet another detention defending their usual teacher, which he was also not going to attend. At least, he wasn't planning on it.

Then he got the note that it was going to be with Snape instead of her. He tilted it this way and that, then checked for compulsion spells and potions. Ultimately, he decided that he was curious enough to see what was planned.

When he let himself into the Potions classroom that evening, Snape was sitting at his desk. He was marking papers and quietly muttering about incompetence. The teacher looked up at Harry's arrival and frowned. A few flicks of his wand had the door closed and the room sealed from all listeners. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Sir?"

"I can understand that... harridan.. grates upon your nerves, Potter." The potions master placed his quill on the desk and stood. "I can understand that you enjoy riling her. But you are missing one very important point."

Sephiroth's eyebrow raised. "And that point would be?"

"You are not upsetting her by getting into detention." Snape moved around to the front of the desk and leaned his hip on it with his arms crossed. "You are giving her ammunition. Too many detentions and she can expel you. Missed detentions just makes it easier for her."

He frowned at the older man. "Actually, I don't believe she wants to expel me. Doing so would take me out of her sphere of influence. I have already demonstrated a considerable flair for wandless magic. As they don't know what I'm capable of, having me somewhere that they can't monitor is too much of a risk."

Snape rolled his eyes. "And what makes you think that they'll just let you go? They had no proof of any wrongdoing, yet Hagrid wound up in Azkaban. With her in the school, it wouldn't take much effort to plant evidence of illegal activities and take you away as well."

"Except that they know I can defeat Dementors without using my wand."

Snape's hand slammed down onto his desk as he straightened. "You stupid child! They have wards to prevent wandless magic in Azkaban!"

He was brought up short by Masamune appearing in Sephiroth's hand. The point of the blade was very nearly scraping his nose. It was not a pleasant position to be in. "Some things, sir, are not blocked by wizarding wards. My ability to summon my primary weapon doesn't even register as magic, according to every detection spell Hermione has managed to come up with."

"That just makes it worse. Do you want them to sentence you to death?" Snape's words were measured, precise. Even more so than usual. He had no desire to become even more closely acquainted with the blade, but he needed the boy to understand the implications.

Harry was actually a little touched. It seemed the professor really did care. Of course, it could just be because Harry was the only one that had managed to fight his master. Self-preservation could be an extremely motivational thing. He banished Masamune and let a smile touch his lips. "I am harder to keep dead than you seem to think."

Snape resisted the urge to sigh in relief when the weapon vanished. "Well, considering that you're reincarnated, someone apparently managed it."

He shook his head. "I chose to let myself be reincarnated. I remember my afterlife. I could have come back as myself, had I chosen. I wanted..." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, a habit left over from where his glasses used to compress the skin there. "I wanted a new life. Where I wasn't either the Hero or Villain in every person's eyes."

Snape's lips twitched. They twitched again and laughter plainly showed in his normally fathomless eyes. "Well, you clearly picked the wrong life for that."

Sephiroth grinned, pleased that the professor was relaxed enough to crack a joke. "Yes. Yes, I did. Still, if they try anything, they will find out why my previous incarnation was referred to as 'Nightmare' and 'Demon.'"

Snape's eyebrows rose. "Those are... vivid titles."

Sephiroth gave a one-armed shrug. "I earned Demon in the same way that I earned the title of Hero. I was in a war. Obviously, the other side wasn't very pleased with my superior performance on the battlefield."

Snape smirked. "I wonder why. And the Nightmare?"

Sephiroth walked over and grabbed the man's left hand, mindful of his own strength. Snape didn't fight it, even as he rested his palm on the fabric covering the Dark Mark. "We all make mistakes. Some are more costly than others."

Wide eyes stared at him, likely because of the touch and amazement at the sudden very serious change in demeanor. Harry, however, was suddenly distracted by the magic he was now in physical contact with. Snape didn't argue as he unbuttoned the sleeve. Curiosity practically radiated from the man.

Harry pulled the fabric up and stared at the symbol. The skull and snake design was hideous. There was no aesthetic consideration to it beyond pain and fear. The network of energies inside the physical representation was intricate, but Harry had a few advantages.

One, he knew how bonds like this worked. He'd controlled a few people in his time and this was a remarkably similar magic to his own. Two, when he concentrated, he could see the strands of magic. He had done it with the fiendfyre Voldemort used in the graveyard, and he did it now.

Some people understood magic, or thought they did. They thought that the more intricate a spell was, the more proficient the caster. Voldemort was apparently one of those. Sephiroth knew from experience that the more intricate something is, the more each strand relies on the other strands to maintain the structure of the spell. It may survive blunt assault, but snip a few points...

He would have to be careful. The lattice-work engulfed Snape's entire body. The mark on the arm was simply the physical manifestation – the point of origin, as it were. Snape's curiosity became tinged with bafflement and no small amount of mortification as Sephiroth started tracing the strands of magic with one finger, easily ripping his shirt open for a better view.

If he'd been paying attention, Harry might have been embarrassed at manhandling his teacher. As it was, he didn't even note the strangled noise of shock that the man made. He did notice the attempt to pull away, though. He frowned impatiently. "Would you hold still for a minute so I can figure out this spell?"

"Spell?" Snape would later swear to himself to never admit that his voice was distressingly close to a girlish squeak. In his defense, it wasn't every day that he had a student tearing at his clothing. He was, frankly, mortified by the boy's actions. He'd be fighting more, but his shirt had been pulled down to trap his arms and he wasn't able to reach his wand or do much of anything else but squirm.

"Mm... It attached to you first at the arm, but it's pervading every inch of you. The strands are almost lace, they're so complicated."

Snape was distracted from the hand tracing something in his left shoulder by the last statement. "You can see magic?"

Harry nodded absently. "It's a holdover from my last incarnation. No one ever bothered to ask why I was so resistant. It's easy to stop a spell from taking hold, though, if you can alter it as it approaches you."

Snape's mind was now ticking away, trying to determine whether he could create a potion that gave the same ability. He didn't even notice the finger sliding across his collar bone. "What does it look like?"

Harry's response was inattentive, but truthful. "Tiny strands of color. Each one showing either element or intent. The more complicated the spell, the more strands and colors. Summons are particularly beautiful, but rather bright. I usually have to shut it down to fight them or risk a massive migraine."

"Summons?" Snape was brought back to reality by the unfamiliar – well, mostly unfamiliar – word. No one in the Wizarding world had seen a summons in a very long time. It was one of the Lost Arts. If the boy knew how... Then his last life was much more ancient than they'd thought, and he was far more dangerous than any of them had believed. "You know how to Summon?"

"Mmhmm... Okay, the major support strands are here... And this one would stop your heart... This looks like it is supposed to work like a Death spell..."

Snape blinked at the top of the head that was now lowered to examine was apparently a large knot of strands over his chest. He swallowed. A Death spell. Modern wizards knew only one spell that qualified for that title. The use of 'a' made him believe that the boy knew more than one. That was a terrifying thought.

Fingers and intent gaze went up to his neck and face. They weren't seeing his features, he knew, which made the attention all the more disconcerting. The digit paused at his temple. "This set would cause a lobotomy, or sufficient brain damage to result in death. Such tangled and convoluted traps... But, he made a mistake. They're all tied into a single trigger strand. Isolate that, and it can be removed safely. Difficult to do, if you're flying blind, but I've dismantled harder spells."

The catlike eyes focused on his. "Would you like to be rid of the Mark?"

* * *

Harry stared at Hermione in shock. "You want me to what?"

"Teach. It's an important year for us, Harry. We're sitting our OWLs. They help determine what classes we can take next year, which means that they change our lives. We need these grades to get jobs! I know you have the knowledge in your head to pass, and not just from your last incarnation. But, not everyone is as good at Defense as you are."

He was taken back by the passion in Hermione's voice, but admitted that he should have expected something like this. He sighed. He didn't want to, but there was little that he would deny his friends. "I'll think about it."

* * *

The moment Sephiroth realized that she had planned a meeting in the taproom of the Hog's Head, he turned around and walked right back out. He was not going to have to deal with this much rampant stupidity. Meeting in a public place was the height of folly, as he explained to her. It was one thing to raise suspicions that you were doing something, but entirely different to let anyone just listen to what you planned.

Hermione was offended less by the wording and more by the tone – slow and clear, as if talking to a small child. Still, she conceded the point. She stormed back into the bar and talked Aberforth – the owner – into letting them use a private room. Several dozen privacy spells later, he finally nodded in approval at the precautions.

Hermione stumbled her way through her introduction to the idea of them all studying together. This was one case where Harry just had to shake his head. She was a good planner, but she really needed to work on her speeches. Not that he had much experience with it in this life, either. Still, he did have his previous life's experiences to fall back on.

He interrupted the conversation with his Patronus. Prongs stamped around the room, tossing his head and somehow managing not to disturb what passed for décor in the dusty room. All eyes were now trained on him when he lowered his wand. He ignored the Look that Hermione shot him, knowing that he would pay for interrupting her later.

He started softly. His voice was so quiet that they had to strain to listen. It was an old trick. This way, they would be forced to pay attention. "None of you are sure whether or not I faced Voldemort last year. I can understand that. It's hard to believe something so horrible unless you see it with your own eyes, especially when your own government tells you that I am delusional at best.

"That is fine. I don't need you to believe that Voldemort tried to come back to life. I don't need you to believe that he is a real and present danger. I don't need you to believe that he tried to kill me yet again.

"But, what do I need, then? I need you to learn how to defend yourselves long enough to get to safety. It doesn't matter whether I'm right or wrong. You can not afford to ignore me.

"Why?

"If I'm wrong, then you pass your tests and get good jobs after school. You have a chance at a good life, one that you can only gain through achieving your academic best.

"If I'm right, then you live. You dodge, stun and bind your attackers. You get away and live to actually have that good life.

"It's a win for you, either way. If you do ignore me, then you fail your OWLs and possibly your NEWTs. Some of you don't want a career that requires NEWT Defense. That's fine. It's still a good thing to have.

"All of you, however, want to live. If I'm right, then there is a good chance that you won't.

"I am not asking you to like me or support me. All I am asking is that do this. Take this opportunity to learn that you can defend yourselves. Keep yourselves and your families safe. That's all I want – and need – from you.

"I can not force you to learn. I can only give you the chance. You have to be the ones to take it. If you will let me, then I will help you."

Moving his gaze quickly from one person to the next, he suppressed his smile. He had them.

* * *

Quidditch was, Sephiroth had decided, one of the least important duties on his list. Nonetheless, he was happy to have it and he needed the relaxation time. Umbridge deserved a special place in hell for taking it away. Perhaps she would make a good toilet? If he ever did discover that hell was real, he'd be sure to make the suggestion.

He could have forgiven her if it had just been him that was punished. He still had his wing, after all, and could fly around at night when no one was looking. No, it was the banning of the the entire team that galled him. If they wanted to play, Gryffindor was going to have to beg for permission to have a team. The other Houses had already done so and been granted her approval. Gryffindor had not.

He wasn't sure if they were going to, either. Why give her the satisfaction? The more fanatical members of the House were disappointed, but he'd talked with his team and his Captain. Angelina wanted to play, but she was firmly behind him when he said that it was just going to play by Umbridge's rules. None of them wanted to do that.

His retaliatory strike – having Dobby slip a love potion in Umbridge's food – had her following Filch around. He wished he'd known that she was that susceptible, though. He wasn't sure the students really needed to see her start to tear off her blouse in the middle of lunch. She was currently confined to the infirmary, though she kept trying to escape and reunite with her 'dour teddy-bear.'

He looked up as the window by his bed opened. A little creative modification had made it so that Genesis could let himself into the room – a fact that his friend took full advantage of. He wasn't surprised to see him. Hopefully, he'd have the information that he'd actually asked Sirius for, but hadn't received yet.

His hopes were doomed to be dashed in that respect, but his smile lit his face when he saw who had entered with Genesis. "Angeal!"

* * *

The dark-haired behemoth was stunned when arms wrapped around his neck. The happy babbling in his ear was a bit shocking, as well. The wing wrapping around him... Well, he wasn't sure what amazed him more. That it was popped out in the open or that the other inhabitants of the room weren't staring in horror.

Really, they seemed to be completely uninterested. The boys just returned to their card game, which exploded suddenly. He struggled to escape the grip Sephiroth had on him so that he could aid them. Then he realized that the boys were only singed, not really damaged. In fact, they were laughing at the young brunette the called 'Neville.' He was pouting, though it gave way to snickering after a moment.

Hesitantly, he metaphorically popped his eyes back into their sockets and wrapped his own arms around Sephiroth. The scent of warm skin, ice and leather engulfed his senses. A whiff of smoke and apples was his only warning as Genesis joined the hug, entwining them both in red leather-clad arms and a massive black wing. He shook his head.

"What exactly have I missed?" It had to have been a hell of a lot, for this strangeness to happen.

* * *

Sephiroth sighed, his head resting on the corded muscle of his friend's shoulder. There was the scent of the forest, machine oil, JENOVA, sweat and spices – cinnamon, the thought, or nutmeg. There was also a hint of.. lye? _Where did they find lye soap?_ It elicited memories of camp tents and battered cabins with either no or bad plumbing.

Genesis joining them and adding his scents to the pot just made it all the better. It was comfortingly familiar. After all, how many times had they fallen asleep in the field, huddled together for warmth and safety, either just before or after a major battle? He gave a little shudder at the memory of the temperatures they'd encountered on the Northern Continent and in the mountains of Wutai.

He allowed himself one last inhalation before stepping back, then fought down a grin. Angeal may have some control over himself, but the lingering shock was making his eyes a little wider – and his face a little paler – than was normal. "I'm not really sure where to begin with that question, but let me introduce my bunkmates..."

* * *

Days after their confrontation in the potions classroom, Severus Snape sat in his old leather armchair and stared at his bare arm. Every now and then, he would set down the tumbler of whiskey in his right hand. Trembling finders would reach out to touch the unblemished skin, then scrub at his damp cheeks. He was free.

This Life Debt was one that he was happy to bear.

* * *

Voldemort lifted his head from the bed he way lying on. Something had changed. But, what? He reached out his mind to touch his remaining followers, only to howl in rage. Magic exploded out from him. It demolished the muggle home he'd stolen for the night and incinerated the corpses of the owners.

A low growl echoed off nearby buildings, though it was drowned out by the sound of car alarms and the approaching emergency services personnel. He called the shadows to wrap around him, easily morphing them into clothing, before he stalked away from the destruction.

Someone would pay for the loss of his slave.

* * *

Beneath the ocean, Chaos smiled as Fate's tapestry changed further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are interested, Mom is dying. There is no hope of eradicating the cancer. She's finished radiation therapy now. They hope this will allow her to better enjoy the time she has left and extend her time a bit.
> 
> If I'm slightly incoherent, I've been living a very messed up sleep schedule and I quit smoking (cold turkey) on New Years. I am/was a two- or three-packs-a-day smoker. So... tired and twitchy seemed to be the order of the day. I kept reaching for a smoke, only to not find one. Or an ashtray for that matter.
> 
> The drugs that they can prescribe help you quit? According to a friend that tried them: He was so mellow that he could have bought a Ferrari, had it stolen and wrecked, watched the thief dance naked in front of a cop.. and just shrugged and gone back to his tea. He decided that it was less conducive to his actually living his life than smoking was.
> 
> This is not a vice I suggest indulging. Reduced lung capacity is only the beginning of the damage it causes. Sadly, I haven't been able to quit completely – too much stress. Still, I'm doing much better.
> 
> Regarding the commentary I know I'm going to get: NO. Harry is not trying to get into Snape's pants and Snape was not aroused. Think about it. You're in a classroom, a student walks in and starts tearing off your clothes. If your response is **anything** other than shock, fear, and rejection... then you need to **not** be in a position of authority over children. Full stop. The Snape in this story was in shock and was trying to process what, precisely, Potter thought he was doing. (Or what potions he might have ingested.)
> 
> To Sephiroth, what he was doing was about as personal as an examination in a triage tent. Harry may be embarrassed later, once he realizes where Snape's thoughts initially went. 
> 
> Also, I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter. It's the one where things start REALLY going off the rails: Snape is free, though he now has to worry about being hunted by his former boss. Angeal is there, meaning the trio is back together. Hm... Bad news for the bad guys. And, lastly, Sephiroth is starting to be less submissive to authority than even canon Harry. 
> 
> Life is about to change.
> 
> Which makes this a very hard chapter to write. Trying to capture the feel of things to come? Hardest part of writing. Especially when you never really did more than the most bare-bones outline possible. If you want to imagine it, picture a line drawing on a cocktail napkin... Yeah... Very thorough.
> 
> The Zenene is an ugly looking critter that shows up in Shin-Ra tower after Jenova gets loose. It vaguely resembles a canine (being a mutated Guard Hound) and is undead. Personally, I feel it takes Genesis' insult to a whole new level of perversion, since he's adding necrophilia and bestiality to the mix. There is a decent pic on the Final Fantasy Wiki if you want to get the full force of his comment.
> 
> I have now officially lost count of how many times I re-wrote this chapter. I give up. I hope you've enjoyed it, and I will go start the next one. Hopefully, I'll have it up more quickly.
> 
> _Additional Note: It has been pointed out to me that I let Cedric live in the last story. Oh, the horror! The chapter has been edited to reflect that. Sorry, folks._


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer**
> 
> This is ridiculous. Don't one, wouldn't want to... just imagine all that hassle!
> 
> **Note**
> 
> As of noon, on the fifteenth of January, this story had the highest subscriber count of any of my stories on AO3, and had received – in less than an hour – 170 unique visitors on FFN. By the time a single day had passed, FFN had over 700 unique visitors and 17 legitimate reviews on Chapter 11. (Plus one spam review.) The AO3 numbers are harder to pin down, as it doesn't separate by chapter and my replies count as comments. Still, I am delighted, folks. I love that you love this and I will try to be more regular with my updates.
> 
> Mom is, by the way, thankful for all the well-wishes. She wants to let you know that she is also thinking of every one of you. If you're curious, every time I tell her someone has said something nice, she asks for a name. I only have screen names to give her, but she asks all the same and is happy to know you by whatever handle you use.

# Twelve

Reunited, the trio decided that it was time to go to war. Angeal, once he was filled in on current events, was just as vicious in his planning as the other two. Having two non-students creep through the halls allowed Harry to have an iron-clad alibi whenever Umbridge tried anything. How could he have committed such 'vile acts' if he was in Transfiguration, after all? Nothing showed on his wand, either.

It didn't stop her from trying to get him in detention. He was fairly sure that a complete count would run the rest of his time at Hogwarts and possibly follow him into his future career. That didn't mean, of course, that he was willing to appear at her behest. He didn't.

Sirius had, finally, come through with the Animagus instructions and other information he'd requested. Sephiroth and the others in his dorm – plus Hermione, Genesis and Angeal – were rather quickly engrossed in attempting to find their forms. He just hoped his wasn't something useless. The last thing he needed was to find out that he was an earth worm or something even further down the evolutionary scale!

Their pranks, meanwhile, were quickly noticed by the Weasley twins. Soon it was a competition to see who could prank the Inquisitor the hardest. The air around her was now perpetually scented with the delightful aroma of dung, troll or marlboro. She entered her classroom one morning to find the entire thing had shifted 90 degrees to the left. The next day, the desks were all attached – somehow – to the ceiling. An impressive feat, considering that it was a vaulted ceiling.

Sephiroth still wasn't sure how Genesis managed that. The man had always had a way with materia that baffled him, though, so it wasn't a new feeling.

Objects around her randomly broke or caught fire. Toilets spontaneously clogged when she came within three feet. Seemingly harmless objects would jump up and attack her when certain words were said in their proximity. Particular triggers included superior, creature, pure-blood, mudblood, and – to Harry's amusement – kitten.

At meals, her food would sometimes include a varied selection of bugs. Stinkbugs and flies were the most common. The rest of the time, interesting flavors were added in. Anything from sweaty socks to yak urine flavoring. He was pretty sure that the twins were responsible for that one, but he couldn't be certain. Angeal seemed a bit too smug and was getting along famously with the House Elves.

The least imaginative flavor was the pepper in her tea, but he had to agree that it was traditional.

For an entire day, red fluid dripped down the walls of any room she entered. One brave soul – Seamus Finnegan, to be specific – tested it and discovered that it was raspberry syrup. He quickly received a detention for licking the walls. She claimed it was obscene.

She went to bed one evening and woke up the next morning duct taped to the wall of the Great Hall. He couldn't help the proud grin when the twins eyed him. It had been a particularly difficult operation, sneaking past her wards and stealing her from her bedchamber without waking her. Of course, he had to scrub himself afterwards because he came in contact with her, but he thought it was worth it.

He, of course, sent a thank you note to Remus for the tape.

Meanwhile, Snape was... Well, he was far more _Snape_ than he'd been in years. There was less abuse and more... Snape. He was crackling with energy and life. His movements had just as much grace, but far more energy to them. He stalked the classroom with the predatory lethality of a dragon and exuded just as much power.

He also gave points to Gryffindor, which had Ron fainting. The rest of the class nearly followed when Snape laughed. It was more of an evil snicker, but it was still horrifying to most of them. Snape never laughed.

Afterward, Ron started trying to follow Harry everywhere to make sure that their potions professor hadn't figured out a way to permanently rid the school of him. It was the only reason he could come up with for such behavior. Harry didn't enlighten him.

Instead, he just watched with great amusement as the rest of the school went insane with rumors of what could have made the 'greasy git' so happy. His personal favorite was that the Head of Slytherin had 'found one of his own species to mate with.' That suggestion came from a muggle born, predictably, and turned most of the surrounding students green at the thought.

Harry had never laughed so much in his life, sometimes it was even out loud.

* * *

Dumbledore wasn't sure what to make of the recent events in the school. On one hand, he had managed to get some information from Molly. Not much, but some. On the other hand, there was now a full blown prank war happening and the competition didn't revolve around students pranking each other, but one of his teachers.

It was, in his opinion, more than a bit unsettling. He should be stepping in to calm it down, he knew. In spite of what she was here for, she was nominally one of his teachers and there were boundaries of respect that should be adhered to. That's why he insisted on correcting students when they left off Severus' title. It was simple courtesy, after all, and didn't cost anything.

However, Delores was bringing a lot of it down on herself. The Wall of Rules she was slowly creating was more than a bit excessive. Her responses to the pranks were also overdone. He was completely unable to rein her in, thanks to the Ministry's interference. He couldn't be sure, but he was more than moderately certain that he'd seen a student cradling a hand that exhibited the classic effects of a blood quill.

In the end, he decided to let it slide. She had insisted that he stay out of her attempts to enforce disciplinary measures, so he would leave it to her. He admitted to himself that it was a little spiteful on his part, but he was only human and he did have his suspicions that she had hurt his students. They had a right to defend themselves, as long as it wasn't taken too far.

He leaned back in his desk chair and frowned. Harry was far different than he had been. The boy was more willing to stand up for himself and much more capable of doing so. He was also having visitors that routinely crossed the ward line, though he was hard pressed to figure out when they were meeting. They weren't seen in the halls and Harry seldom left the building now that he wasn't playing Quidditch. The visits had no correlation at all with his Care class. It was perplexing, but no more so than the changes in the boy.

Part of him, the part that cared for his students and young Harry in particular, hoped that he was wrong about what the scar was. If he was wrong, then he wouldn't have to find a way to persuade Harry to die. If he was right... Well, he was no longer certain that Harry would be killed unless he was willing.

Worse, perhaps, the anger issues that Harry exhibited were reminiscent of Tom Riddle.

Only in the peripheral sense, of course. Riddle was easier to manage. From what he'd been able to gather, Harry was too contained. His self control was worrisome. Even when he did supposedly lose control, it was calculated to have maximum effect. His first class with Delores – and the resulting loss of faith in her exhibited by the students – was proof of that. He thought things through in a way that Riddle never did and was obviously powerful. If he went Dark...

Dumbledore hoped that the youngest Mister Weasley and Miss Granger were able to keep him on track. Heaven help the world if they didn't.

And what – in the name of all citrus candies – was up with Severus?

* * *

Snape looked at his class with satisfaction. They were suitably cowed and his classroom was in perfect order. Even his Slytherins were behaving. This was truly a thing of beauty.

He eyed Pansy Parkinson. The fifth year Slytherin was glancing at him out of the corner of her eye and had a marked green tinge to her skin at points. She wasn't the first that had exhibited such a reaction to him lately, and part of him wondered why. Still, it wasn't important enough to delve into her insipid thoughts to find out.

He pursed his lips. Yes, there was an easy way to get the information. "Potter! Stay after class."

* * *

After Potions, Harry sent Hermione and Ron on their way. Ron was still reluctant to leave him alone with Snape, but a glare from the professor sent him scurrying off after a few moments. Sephiroth suppressed a grin. Snape reminded him of Tseng at times. Not as stoic, but he certainly had the Turk's glare down to a fine art. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

Snape flicked his wand at the door to close it. "Precisely why do half of my students look like they're ready to vomit when they see me?" A smirk tugged at his lips. "I'm used to the nervous nausea, but this appears to be something more."

Sephiroth chuckled. "The students are attempting to discern the source of your good mood. There are some very entertaining rumors making the rounds. I'm not exactly which student voiced the idea, but one possibility is that you have found someone to.. relieve your stresses with."

Snape blinked at him. Sephiroth watched humor be chased around on his face by horror at the thought of his students speculating on his sex life. Finally, he seemed to settle on rueful amusement. "That is... rather hilarious with broad hints of disturbing."

Sephiroth nodded. "I found it so." He let his grin spread across his face. "I didn't feel that it was my place to enlighten them."

Snape nodded, a slightly jerky motion that indicated he was still processing. "Quite so." He suddenly seemed to realize Harry was still there. "That will be all, Mister Potter."

"Yes, Professor."

* * *

It was just after curfew when Ron and Hermione cornered him to ask what the conversation had been about. He was in his dorm, chatting with Genesis and Angeal, when the two stalked in. Hermione plopped on Ron's bed and stared at him a moment before speaking. "What happened with you and Professor Snape, Harry?"

Hermione had the same determined expression that had appeared just before she'd slugged the younger Malfoy. Harry was stubborn, but he wasn't an idiot – anyone that had seen her right would have cracked. Especially when it was such a small thing. "I removed his Mark."

"Bloody hell!" Ron collapsed next to Hermione. "That's why he's so... Snape?"

He couldn't help his grin. "Exactly."

Hermione frowned. He watched her mind start processing, sorting lists of questions into flowcharts depending on the answers she was about to demand. "How? If Professor Dumbledore couldn't do it, it must be exceedingly difficult."

He sighed and ignored the amused look Genesis shot him. The Commander was finding the entire situation too funny. The Demon of Wutai interrogated by a schoolgirl? If Zack had been here, Sephiroth would never live it down. He still might not. "I can see magic. It was a simple matter of tracing the strands of the spell and breaking the triggers. Then I removed the threads, as it were."

Her fingers twitched and he knew that she was just itching for a quill and parchment. He ignored the suspicious way Angeal cleared his throat as he reached into his trunk and provided them. She smiled her thanks and he waited for the next question. "Okay, so you see magic. Where was it on him?"

"Well, there was some in the arm, obviously. However, it had spread all throughout his torso and cranial region."

Ron had pulled out a chocolate frog to munch on. He choked on it now. "Blimey, mate... How did you fix that? I mean wouldn't he have to... see it?" The red-head's face turned green. "You didn't..."

Harry frowned. "I just pulled his shirt open. It's not like I had to rip his skin off."

Genesis roared with laughter, even as Hermione blushed bright red and Ron paled. Harry looked back and forth between them. "What?"

Even Angeal was chuckling now and Sephiroth was more than a bit confused. He felt irritation flash through him, but fought it down. Okay, so they were laughing at him. It wasn't like he'd never had anyone do that before. But why would...?

His eyes widened. He stiffened as realization and half-remembered conversations from a lifetime ago rushed through his mind. "No. Oh, no. I didn't... that wasn't...!"

Genesis grabbed the wall to keep from falling out of his seat by the window. Angeal was leaning against the bedpost, trying to remain standing. Ron was torn between laughter and revulsion. Hermione was biting her lip – either to keep from scolding him or joining Genesis in riotous amusement.

Resisting the childish urge to pout, he crossed his arms and glared at the group until they started to calm down. That's right, glared. He wasn't pouting, thank you very much. "I do not find this amusing."

Genesis grinned. "I do." He turned to Hermione. "It's not the first time he's done this, either. There are times he gets it into his head that he's a medic. I've seen him almost strip SOLDIERs in the middle of a battlefield to check their injuries. Never mind that there are fifty, or a hundred, or even a thousand people watching. And, I might add, four or five perfectly capable medics standing around looking irritated that he's doing their jobs."

Angeal was snickering too hard to comment, so Genesis kept going. "I still remember this one time, we were in the middle of the Sector Four slums. Kunsel had gotten himself bitten on the leg by a Guard Hound with some questionable physical attributes. And, here comes Sephiroth. He kills the Hound and goes for the poor Second Class' belt! Right in front of a camera crew...!"

Genesis lost his fight with gravity as his amusement neutralized all of his normal grace and coordination. He landed on the rough stone floor with a muted, "Oomph!"

The fall didn't stop his laughter, and just seemed to spur the others on.

Sephiroth grumbled. "It's not funny."

Angeal sat next to him on the bed, patting his shoulder. He wasn't snickering anymore, but he was still grinning widely. "We know, General. The Hound could have had some sort of infection. And it was best to check instead of wasting a potion or a materia... Still, not everyone sees it that way."

Sephiroth nodded and groaned. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. "It's too late, now. I'll apologize for being so... 'unmindful of social barriers' in the morning. Gaia, Lazard would have had my hide for this."

He looked down at the still snickering Genesis and prodded his leg with his foot. The motion set the SOLDIER off again and he sighed.

* * *

The next morning, he stood just outside of the Potions classroom, leaning against the wall. He heard the footsteps before he saw him, and turned to watch the Professor's approach. He felt the smile play across his lips as he admired his handiwork. It felt... good to know that he could change someone's life for the better. "Professor Snape, may I speak with you a moment?"

One dark brow lifted, but the man nodded after a second. There was no need to interrogate the boy, since the reason for the request would become clear momentarily. He opened the door to his office and ushered him inside. "What assistance do you require, Mister Potter?"

He took a deep breath. "I've come to apologize."

Snape settled behind his desk and pulled his ledger from its spot in a drawer. He would need it in a few minutes to mark attendance for his first class. "For what, precisely?"

He straightened, subconsciously coming to attention. The habits of a lifetime – even a past lifetime – were sometimes hard to break, and he had paid his dues in the lower ranks just like every other SOLDIER. Professor Snape may not be in any military, but he had certainly earned the same respect as any commander.

"I apologize for inappropriately laying hands on your person, in direct contravention of social barriers. I do not apologize for removing your Mark, as I had your permission to do so. However, it was not my place to," he flushed and forced the words out through his embarrassment, "remove your attire."

Both eyebrows lifted, this time, as Snape studied him. His head tilted to one side, as if there was some strange puzzle in front of him. "You are apologizing for the actions that led you to discover that you could remove my Mark?"

"Yes, sir."

Snape's eyes drifted shut for a moment. He could be praying for patience, but Sephiroth wasn't sure that the man was religious. If he had to hazard a guess, he would say not. "As your actions led to an event for which I am... grateful, there is no apology necessary. In all honesty, it had already been forgotten. However, I would appreciate it if it did not happen again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Harry was amazed. He was fairly certain that daring to offer his regrets for the action would have resulted in a punishment of some sort. Possibly, one more innovative than cleaning cauldrons.

"Good. Now, I believe that you are missing breakfast?"

"Yes, sir." He returned the Professor's nod of dismissal and left the room. He was just in a hurry to eat. He wasn't fleeing. Of course, he wasn't... Right.

* * *

Snape leaned back in his chair and stared at the door. That was unexpected. He'd expected the child to just let the favor he'd done gloss over his actions. He smiled, just slightly, but would duel anyone that dared claim that he felt proud of a Gryffindor, much less a Potter.

The day passed swiftly, and Severus soon found himself back in his office. He had a stack of parchments to grade and a good cup of tea sitting on his desk. In a small box off to the side, there was a fresh supply of some semi-rare ingredients that he could spend the rest of his evening experimenting with. There was no one to interrupt his work, and no students to watch his every move with eagle-eyed interest as they tried to discern his secrets.

He took a deep breath and let it out, feeling all the stress of the day go. This was his favorite part of the day... Then a knock sounded at the door.

He resisted the urge to curse. "Come!"

He schooled his features to hide his surprise at the girl that entered. "Miss Granger?"

She swallowed and toyed with the strap of her backpack, clearly nervous. "Professor... I..."

This was interesting. What could have her so fidgety? And in his office, no less? "Spit it out, Miss Granger."

"I'm sorry... this was a mistake." She started to head for the door.

"Stop." She did, but didn't turn around. "Come here and sit down."

For a moment, he thought she was going to flee in spite of her reverence for authority figures. She obeyed, though, her gaze fixed firmly on the scarred surface of the desk that was now in front of her. A tremor ran through her and he fought down the shaft of concern. Whatever this was, it was clearly something she found serious. He had never known her to misread a problem. He did his best to moderate his tone to what he hoped sounded like a gentle prodding. "Now, what is wrong?"

She took a deep breath, then a second. "There's a problem. Or, I think there is." The poor abused strap of her bag was going to break at the rate she was mutilating it, leather or not. "I... You know Harry had a past life?"

"Yes." He kept his voice even. It wouldn't do to scare her off now that she was finally speaking.

"I think he..." Her head ducked down further, she was now staring at his floor. He fought the urge to ask if it needed cleaning. "Harry was a soldier in his last life. He... I don't think anyone has ever... talked to him about it."

She finally looked at him. He shouldn't be surprised, he supposed, to see the bare beginnings of tears starting to swim in her eyes. She reminded him, in many ways, of Lily. It was part of why he had always pushed her as he did – to prove to himself that she couldn't be that intelligent, that kind. "Are you saying you believe he needs help?"

She nodded. "I don't think he's going to hurt anyone, but he keeps it so bottled up!" Her expression was begging him to understand. He let his mind drift across her surface thoughts in response. With her so focused, there was no risk of him getting lost in the more prurient thoughts that ran rampant in hormonal teenagers.

"You don't feel that he is currently a physical danger to anyone, but you think that might change if he isn't... guided through some of his issues. If not causing damage to others, you believe he might harm himself. Not now, possibly not for years, but eventually."

"Yes, exactly. I don't know what to do and I thought..." Relief skittered through her and he hastily withdrew. Her mind was more organized than some, meaning that it was less headache-inducing to probe. That didn't mean he wanted to stay there any longer than he had to.

He picked up his tea and sipped it to buy himself a few moments to reorder his own mind. Legilimency was always a disconcerting experience. He'd never understood how the dark.. how Voldemort used it with such casual ease. "You're hoping that I will understand his plight and that his recent actions will result in my willingness to assist."

She gave a sheepish smile. "Yes, Professor."

He pondered how he could do so. Albus had already been making noises about teaching the boy Occlumency. Perhaps? Yes, that would work. He could teach him in the more gentle manner than he'd learned. It was almost like therapy. This would allow him to repay Potter for removing his Mark. Surely, saving his sanity had to count for something? Still...

"Why did you not go to the Headmaster or your Head of House?"

She gave a sheepish smile. "I don't know if Professor McGonagall would understand. And, Professor Dumbledore... I think Harry is having issues with him. The distance he's keeping this year and the placement with his Aunt... It's not done their relationship any good, and Harry has trust issues to begin with."

"And you don't feel you are violating his trust now?"

She straightened. "I am. But, I don't think he'll let me help him. He dodges my questions. I'm not really sure why."

Severus eyed her. Was she really...? "You, Miss Granger, are an innocent. If he was a soldier, as you say, then he spent most of his life trying to keep the innocent safe. Part of that is... a regrettable tendency to think that your own emotional issues would compromise them or somehow taint them. It is possible that he's afraid you will listen to his actions and reject him for what was... necessary."

"Oh." Her eyes were wide, as if she'd never considered it from that perspective. It wouldn't surprise him if she hadn't. Most people didn't unless they were a little more experienced than a barely sixteen year old girl. Still, she'd be seventeen soon. It was time she started facing up to reality.

"War is never pretty, Miss Granger. Even the so-called heroes are forced to take actions that are morally questionable." He eyed her. "Professor McGonagall would have understood better than you think. She was a member of the DMLE for two years before she came to Hogwarts and has actively fought against... Voldemort in both the first war and – I assume – the coming one."

He ignored her shocked look at his using the Dark Lord's name and continued. "She has seen cases of what the muggles call PTSD or shell shock. I am, honestly, surprised that she didn't notice Mister Potter's – if he does suffer from it."

Hermione shook her head. "He's good at hiding it. He has nightmares, though. And there are times when he's startled and... I'm afraid he might accidentally hurt someone when that happens."

Severus nodded. "Nightmares are inevitable, and the reflexes never completely disappear. I will speak with him, and we will go from there. If there is nothing else, Miss Granger?"

She blinked and straightened back up from where she'd slumped in her chair at his agreement. "No, Professor. Thank you."

He nodded and penned a quick note to send in the morning as she let herself out. He picked up his tea and shook his head. Gryffindors coming to him with their concerns. What was next – Hufflepuffs offering to do his hair?

* * *

Voldemort, Dark Lord and.. questionably human, was sitting in a parlor and finally feeling more like his old self. Across from him, Narcissa Malfoy was instructing a House Elf to see to his needs. This was much better than his more recent experiences had been. If he'd been thinking clearly, he would have availed himself of the Malfoy hospitality sooner.

Narcissa may not have full access to the family funds, but she could play hostess. And, it would allow him access to the library. This meant he could research just what that ritual had done to him. He was finding the side effects more than a little strange and – sometimes – uncontrollable.

He fought the urge to sigh. One, it was undignified. Two, the last time he sighed he had killed an entire bus full of muggles - including the driver. He'd sucked in souls on the inhale and breathed out disease on the exhale. He'd been lucky to survive the resulting wreck, but too high on the unexpectedly acquired power to realize it at the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally finished this twenty minutes ago, so you are getting a 'hot off the press,' unedited copy. Be gentle, but feel free to tell me where I messed up. I just wanted to get it out before I started doubting myself again.
> 
> Okay, so, we have a lot happening here. Angeal and Genesis have let a little bit of Seph's life slip. Dumbles is really starting to worry, both for and about Harry. Ron is nauseated. Snape is proud, amused and more than a little surprised. And Hermione... Well, I don't think her actions need more explaining. If they do, let me know.
> 
> This chapter is very Snape-heavy. You know, I was planning on pretty much ignoring him? Still, he has managed to maneuver himself into a good position to help our favorite silver-haired gent. (glares at him) Stop that! You're my character, not the other way around!
> 
> Still not slash. If someone else wants to go in that direction, feel free. The challenge wasn't mine originally, remember. Let me know so that I can read it? I enjoy well-written slash. (Please don't just cut and paste. Use my logic? Sure. Just make the words your own.) I'm still planning het for Seph, IF – and only if – he decides to have an interest at all. As I've discussed with one reviewer, he's had aversion training to that concept. Would you want Hojo to get his hands on your lover?
> 
> Snape did not address the issue of trusting Dumbledore. He believes Dumbledore will always do what he feels is right. That isn't always what is good for the individual. Dumbledore allows a lot of things (or doesn't fight them) because he is thinking of the people. A person cannot trust Dumbledore to have his best interests in mind if they conflict with the needs of the people. Sorry, just how Snape sees him now. He thought differently when he was younger.
> 
> We have a reader with an atrociously long name to thank for the scene where Seph realized just what he did with Snape: Gilraen_Euphemia_Amandil_Shirokaze, also known as KairiKari. Thanks, Gil! This chapter would not have been the same without you! And, I mean that literally, as the scene kind of took my outline and ran off with it. Oh well, just have to make a new one.
> 
> Marlboro – In the various games of Final Fantasy (not just VII), the Marlboro is a semi-sentient, plant-like creature. The primary attack is 'Bad Breath.' Being hit by this attack can inflict all the available status ailments in the game and it usually hits your whole party. So: Stop, Silence, Poison, Curse, etc, from one attack. Ouch. They're easier to kill in some versions than others. In Final Fantasy XII, one (named Carrot, of all things) is actually something of a mini-boss.
> 
> Ages – Harry turns fifteen the summer before fifth year, having been born in July, 1980. Hermione was born in September of 1979. She turned twelve her first year at Hogwarts. Therefore, while he is fifteen, she is sixteen at this point. That means, at the start of what would have been their seventh year, she turns 18. He would have been seventeen the previous July.
> 
> ….. And, OMG. As I prep this for FFN, my husband texts me. He's at the hematologists'. Apparently, the oral surgeon was worried about his platelet count and sent him there. So, now they're going to do an ultrasound since he has a family history of ITP. I don't want him to need a splenectomy. Please no. It would leave him open to infection and... I'm going to go hide in the shower and cry.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer**
> 
> Don't own it. Donation of the rights would be gleefully accepted. Or not. Again, what a hassle.
> 
> **Note**
> 
> I keep getting overwhelming responses from you and we greatly appreciate it. For those interested, Mom is... reading Nora Robert's Hidden Star. Not much to report since yesterday, really.
> 
> Added note: I had prepped this chapter for posting and saved it to review later. A standard practice for me. I went to relax for a bit, and got a call from my husband. His doctor called him with additional test results. It seems that he had an extremely high blood sugar and was told to go straight to the ER. They have admitted him overnight to get it under control. Diabetes runs in his family, so we aren't really staggered by this even though we didn't know he had it. We're just... startled.

The next morning, Harry was enjoying his breakfast while listening to Hermione read excerpts from their Charms book. She was under the impression that it helped them prepare for tests. He didn't argue, as he was fairly certain that she was right. He remembered an old lecture about types of students from when he was in SOLDIER. And, Ron certainly seemed to be doing better.

His own grades didn't count, as a very accurate recall had been part of the enhancements he'd received as a SOLDIER. There was some debate as to whether or not SOLDIER memories were eidetic. Looking back at some of his men and, were he honest, himself... He was fairly certain that it wasn't.

He was just biting into a piece of bacon when an owl landed next to his plate and stole the slice right from his hand. He eyed the tiny beast. It hooted smugly and held out a letter. He frowned at it for a few more seconds, then realized that he was trying to stare down an owl. He sheepishly untied the missive.

It was short, but he'd come to expect Snape's abrupt style:

_Potter,_

_My office after dinner._

_Prof. Snape_

Harry looked up at the Head Table, and met the black eyes of his teacher. He gave a nod to convey understanding and acceptance, then returned to his meal.

The rest of the day passed swiftly. Most of the classes were reviews for the mid-term practice OWLs later in the week. Umbridge was seen stomping through the school, screeching about croaking doors and hooligans. Ron managed to somehow turn himself blue in Charms, but Flitwick fixed it rather quickly. Lunch and dinner were delicious, as usual, and he was delighted to find treacle tart in the selection of desserts.

All in all, it was a rather good day.

After dinner, he headed for Snape's office. A tap on the door had him invited in and he was soon settled in the surprisingly comfy leather chair. He did have to raise an eyebrow as the professor ordered tea from a House Elf. He certainly hadn't expected to be offered anything. Was he going to be here that long?

Snape, meanwhile, poured out and then settled back in his chair to take a sip. Harry picked his up, recognizing the taste of gunpowder tea from his memories. Not something he'd would have anticipated finding in Hogwarts. Deciding he'd waited long enough, he spoke. "Was there a reason I was summoned, Professor?"

Snape let out a sigh. "Well, Mister Potter. The Headmaster wants me to teach you Occlumency."

He cocked his head. "What is Occlumency?"

"When a wizard wants to learn the thoughts of another, he employs a discipline called 'Legilimency.' To counter that, the victim – as it were – uses Occlumency to protect his thoughts." Snape sipped his tea again. "Professor Dumbledore believes that it would be a good skill for you to have."

Sephiroth frowned. "And you do not?"

Snape chuckled. "Oh, I find it a very useful tool. However, I don't believe that I need to teach it to you. I've been trying to enter your mind for the last several minutes and – while you haven't noticed my assault – your shields are impressive. They haven't buckled at all."

"There is no need for lessons then."

"Yes, and no." Snape set his tea down and eyed him. "I do hope you will forgive my concern, but there is another issue we need to discuss."

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. This didn't sound good. "I am listening."

Snape nodded. "Very well. It has come to my attention that you were a soldier in your past life?"

"I was." He felt blankness settle over his features. It wasn't deliberate, but the result of a lifetime maintaining privacy and reserve in front of nosy Shin-Ra executives. He'd only relaxed around his friends and – for all that they were now on cordial terms – Snape was not one of his close friends.

"Have you heard the term 'Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?'"

He blinked at the teacher. That was unexpected. "We called it Combat Syndrome, I believe. The SOLDIER's experiences on the battlefield manifested a variety of symptoms. Some were conducive to continued survival. Others were more anti-social and usually resulted in imprisonment or execution if their actions were violent enough."

Snape's eyebrows flew towards his hairline. "Execu..." He picked his tea up and took a fortifying swallow. "Well, I assume that no one suggested some form of therapy."

"There were drugs that could be prescribed." Sephiroth sipped his tea. "As they tended to make one suggestible and incapable of self-defense, most of us avoided them."

He wasn't sure what caused the look on Snape's face. There was no pity, he would have recognized that emotion and rejected it immediately. There was anger, sympathy, and a healthy dose of consternation. He watched all of that fade into resignation.

Snape forcibly unclenched his hand from around his tea cup. "How old were you when you were recruited?"

"The minimum age was normally fourteen, as it was the legal age of adulthood in most locations. I was 'permitted' to enlist earlier, as I was a project of the Science Department. I trained in warfare my entire life, but my first battle as a squad leader was when I was twelve. My first battle – at all – was against a pair of Ark Dragons when I was nine."

The cup shattered in Snape's hand. The teacher swiftly drew his wand, banished the spilled tea and glass, then mended the resultant cuts on his palm and fingers. "You are aware, I assume, of how most of the modern, civilized world views the conscription of children?"

"Yes, sir. That is why I haven't gone out of my way to broadcast the information." He allowed himself a bitter smile. He was starting to see where the professor was going with this conversation. "Though, it seems that I enlisted at birth in this life, as well."

"I am aware of," he grimaced, "our society's expectations of you. I find them unreasonable and foolish in the extreme. I am sorry to say that I believe Dumbledore has the same – or similar – expectations."

Sephiroth nodded. "Placing hope on the shoulders of one child is something that is doomed to failure – if the child doesn't buckle under the weight then he or she will likely be insufficiently experienced to complete the required tasks."

Snape paused in preparing a fresh cup of tea. "Did you buckle?"

Memories of screams, fire and blood raced through him. He didn't know that his already pale face whitened further. He didn't notice the way his hand was shaking, threatening to spill the tea in his cup. "Yes."

Snape's expression was unrelenting. He would have this conversation, and he would have it now. "Do you believe you will again?"

Faces of his victims, splattered with blood spilled by his sword. Images of Hogwarts painted macabre red. Umbridge's head sitting on a plate in the middle of the Head Table, an apple firmly wedged between her teeth. "It is likely."

"Will you permit me to help? Modern techniques tend to stress conversation over drugs or potions."

Sephiroth considered him for a few moments. There was concern lurking behind those eyes. He could see it clearly now that he knew to look. But could he trust him? Could he afford not to? No one else was offering to assist him, and he couldn't ask Genesis or Angeal. They were just as messed up as he was. "...Yes."

* * *

When he got back to the common room, Hermione was waiting for him. She was sitting in their customary area by the fire, flipping idly through a book of household spells. On one hand, the conversation with Snape left him feeling exposed and he wanted to hide somewhere to lick his wounds. On the other, she was usually a soothing presence these days. Since the hug on the floor at Grimmauld Place, he'd felt more comfortable with her than ever.

He settled next to her, glancing at the page over her shoulder. "Dishes?"

"Mmmm." She flipped to the next page. 'On Drawer Organization,' he noted. "There seem to be a dozen different spells for them and all of them are more complicated than picking up a rag and some soap."

He laughed. "Well, that's magic for you."

Hermione chuckled. "True. So, where have you been?"

"Professor Snape wanted to talk to me." He watched relief go through her expression and her shoulders relax. "Was therapy your idea?"

Hermione nodded, tucking a strand behind her ear.

"Why?" He knew there was a dozen ways she could interpret that question, but he meant all of them. So, whatever answer she came up with first would determine the thread of their conversation.

"I was afraid.." He felt a sharp hurt knife though him. He wouldn't harm her! "for you."

"Oh." The clenching in his chest eased. "Explain?"

She glanced at him, then let her arm brush his as a reassurance. "You were a soldier, Harry. You have nightmares and I've seen how you tense when people are behind you. You had to stop yourself from hurting Ron the other day, when he grabbed your shoulder and you weren't expecting it. I know how guilty you would have felt if you hadn't stopped in time.

"Most of all..." She wilted, but forced herself to speak: "Most of all, I don't know the exact statistics, but I know that the suicide rates are fairly high in war veterans."

He blinked at her, then sighed. "Hermione, I can honestly say that the last thing that would have occurred to me would be to kill myself." _Everyone else, on the other hand..._ "Thank you, though. You were right in this case. Still, next time, talk to me about it? I don't like it when people do things for 'my own good.'"

She looked at him, uncertain. "Promise to at least listen when I do? And we can talk it out, instead of dismissing it out of hand?" He nodded, remembering the incident with the Firebolt and understanding why she hadn't expected him to listen. She smiled. "I will, then."

"So, what's so fascinating about drawer organization? Just move things around a bit and you'll find what you're looking for."

"Harry...!" He fought down the grin at her exasperation.

* * *

It was the end of the fourth year Potions class when his desk was approached by Luna Lovegood. He'd heard the other professors alternately rant and crow about her in their meetings, but she had – until this point – never given him reason to single her out. Now, she was waiting patiently with her hair tucked behind those radish earrings. Her bag was slung over her shoulder and he could see what looked like a Gurdyroot sticking out of one pocket.

He set down his quill. "Yes, Miss Lovegood?"

"Professor, you know that there are quite a few animals that next in hair. I can help you ward them off if you like."

He blinked. "Nest in... hair?"

"Oh, yes. The Trisbit is attracted to scalp oils because their skin is so dry, and the Drozzles eat the Trisbits." She nodded earnestly throughout her speech, radishes swinging.

Severus blinked at her and surreptitiously pinched his leg. Not dreaming. "I.. see. And how does one ward off these... pests?" He pinched his lips together, wondering if this was some childish prank. They would have never dared before. "Bathing, I presume?"

"Well, that's part of it, of course. But, my mother used..." She plopped her pack on the desk and opened it to start pulling things out. The gurdyroot, a half dozen quills, what looked like a feather from a Thestral, two curly straws and a trio of purplish marbles were deposited on the surface as she tried to find what she was looking for. He ignored the strange glow from the marbles.

Severus glanced over her shoulder to see half the Ravenclaws in her year. Their gazes were locked on the two of them, wide with abject terror. No doubt, they were anticipating the point deduction... Or a homicide.

She finally pulled out an amulet. "Here we are. Keeps critters away and even makes it so that potions, poisons and fumes have no effect when they hit the skin."

He blinked at her, then the amulet she held out to him. He took it, examining the worn lines. It was a small, gold oval – barely an inch across. Etched into the worn surface was an intricate runic array. He blinked. These hadn't been made in years, as the method had been lost. Potions masters fought for them, paid exorbitant amounts of money, so that they wouldn't have to use the potions he currently had slathered on his skin and hair. "I cannot accept this."

She gave a little smile and mischief sparkled in her eye. He was suddenly convinced, with absolute certainty, that she knew exactly what she was offering. "Well, you could borrow it. Just until you can make your own."

He started to refuse again, then remembered Harry's – _Potter's, dammit, Potter's_ – ability to see magic. And, arts and crafts were supposed to be part of therapy. He thought he remembered that from somewhere. If the boy could learn to reproduce them, he'd also have a valuable skill that would keep him in money if he ever needed it.

Severus nodded. "Just borrowing. I shall return it as quickly as possible, Miss Lovegood."

She gave him a dazzling smile, gathered the assorted detritus from her bag and left the room. His glare sent the rest of the class scurrying after her.

* * *

Until the next scandal hit and the event was forgotten, the Ravenclaws treated Luna with a mix of shock, awe and fear. That girl was insane!

* * *

The office was dark, lit only by a lamp on the large wooden desk. The Prime Minister himself, John Major, was fuming behind it. He sent a request to speak with the Other Minister weeks ago, only to be ignored until he was getting ready to go home for the day today. Then, to add insult to injury, the man was late. It was nearly midnight!

When the rotund form of Minister Fudge finally stepped into his office, the PM was ready to throttle him. Even more so when he started acting like it was a friendly visit for tea. "Ah! Prime Minister. I hope all is well with you."

Major frowned. "Not at all, sir."

Fudge blinked, decided he must have misunderstood and carried on. "I understand that there is something your office needed? I certainly hope we can be of assistance. There are limits, of course, but I'm always happy to help another Minister."

Another Minister? Major took a deep breath to calm himself and straightened his glasses. He pulled several photographs of the unknown wizard from a folder on his desk. "You can explain this, for starters."

Fudge accepted the images with an air of joviality, perused them for a moment and flashed a smile. "I see. It must be some of your muggle fo-maturated pictures. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

Major's eyebrows raised. Fo-mat... "Do you mean photographic manipulation, by any chance?"

Fudge beamed. "Yes, that's it. Dashed clever you people are. The things you can do without magic are fascinating."

Major passed him another picture. This one of the corpses he'd left behind in the eatery. "I assure you, these are not manipulated. They are images captured from video which I have reviewed. It has been authenticated by two separate departments."

Fudge's smile slowly slipped from his face. "I see... Could I have the names of the people who witnessed this? For our records, of course."

"Of course." Major was not a fool. He'd seen enough in those images and in his previous dealings with Fudge to be wary of magic. "I actually have it right here. In the meantime, an explanation would be welcome."

"I'll have to look into it, of course. Might be all sorts of things, you know." Fudge took the list and pocketed it.

"Right." Major frowned at him.

Fudge moved to the fireplace, threw some powder in and said something. Moments later, his office was flooded with wizards.

* * *

The Prime Minister was tired. He'd been working late on a dozen different initiatives that he hoped to have in place shortly. The most important, of course, being a program for unwed mothers. He rolled his shoulders and leaned back in his chair.

Moments later, a group of MI-6 agents entered the room. "Prime Minister, please come with us."

He eyed them for a moment, then stood. Twenty minutes later, he was in a secure location. An hour later he was cursing vigorously as he watched his memories be wiped on the surveillance video from his office.

The MI-6 agent, she hadn't identified herself though he knew her as M, took a deep breath. "As we suspected. Every person whose name you gave to Fudge has lost their memories of the footage. Also, the memories of everyone in your office. They were force-fed an unknown drug to force them to recite their knowledge on the topic prior to the alteration."

An junior agent nearby snorted, gaining both their attention. He shifted sheepishly. "Sorry. I just still find it hard to believe that they are this stupid. How can they not know we're monitoring you just as closely – if not more – than that restaurant?"

Major shook his head. M coughed. "Well, logic doesn't seem to be their strong point."

Major nodded. "I want this handled, M. They're hiding something – something large – and I want to know what it is and how we stop it."

"Yes, Prime Minister."

* * *

Harry would never have thought of it, had he not regained his memories. He could freely admit that. Sephiroth had been trained to never, ever ignore a resource. The best resource in Hogwarts was ignored by everyone – staff and students alike. So, when he needed a place for 'his' students to meet, his first stop was the kitchens.

Ten minutes, a mug of chocolate and a dozen cookies later, he had instructions on how to find the Come and Go Room.

Now, watching the various students enter, he wondered if this was really the best idea any of them had ever had. These children would be targets for Umbridge, the Ministry and – eventually – Voldemort. A few deep breaths cleared his head and he reminded himself that many were already targets. Most of the students here were not pure-bloods. They had muggles in their immediate ancestry and were therefore on the hit list.

He glanced at Ron and Hermione, then looked over to where Genesis and Angeal were lounging on seats in the far corner. He let his gaze skip across the students and wondered how much of himself – the current self – he was losing as he relied more and more upon his memories. Was it worth it? To save them? Yes.

_I will never be a memory..._

He got them to attention and called them to order. "It has been suggested that we need a name for our study group. Are there any suggestions?"

Ideas flew back and forth and it was finally decided. They were the Defense Association. There was a call to vote for a leader, then. He had to fight the urge to point out that it was his job as teacher. At least the vote agreed with him.

He nodded to himself. It was time to address the troops. "Now, some of you are aware that I had a previous life. This has been certified by the Ministry, as much as we may hate to take their word on anything at the moment." He waited out the quiet laughs. "The one aspect of that which hasn't been mentioned to many, is that I was a General. This means that combat is my field of expertise."

Sephiroth ignored the surprised looks from the children. He needed to get through this introduction. "I have with me two – other than Ron and Hermione – that are going to help us learn. I know they aren't familiar to you, but I guarantee that you can trust them to help. They will not betray us.

"The dark haired man is Angeal Hewley. His specialty is physical combat. The gentleman in red is Genesis Rhapsodos. I'm sure you'll enjoy his..." Sephiroth let his lips twitch into a smirk. "...unique training methods."

He gestured to draw their gazes around the room. "Now, I'm sure you've noticed this strange oval. This, ladies and gentlemen, is called a track. It's used to practice running and increase endurance. The machines by the wall over there are used to train strength. Using both will train your bodies. The training of your bodies will make it so that you can cast longer without fatigue. You will be more able to survive a fight or escape one."

He watched, with amusement, several mouths snap closed. Questions answered, then. "Now, when running, you should have comfortable shoes with good support. If you don't know what this means, then ask a muggleborn later. We'll start that training next time. Today, we're going to start with a discussion of basic tactics."

He settled in a chair the room had provided and waited for them to find seats on the floor. "The first thing to do is assess your opponent's strength. You do not want to enter a fight that you cannot win. If he is stronger, or you are equal, then you need to escape. There is no honor in dying."

The Gryffindors balked, but he shook his head. "I know. But, if you are attacked by a Nundu, sticking around will only make you look like an idiot. Wouldn't you agree?"

At their reluctant nods, he continued. "If you are able to defeat him or unable to escape, your next question is whether or not you have to kill him. I know we live in a society that says killing is wrong. In most cases, that is correct. If you are, however, in unwilling fear of your life or willingly on a battlefield, then the rules change."

"If you can win without killing, then your first order of the day is to disarm your opponent. This can, for our purposes, be done with an _Expelliarmus_ , literally with the use of a slicing hex or similar, or – finally – through physically overpowering them.

"Next is neutralization. We do not want that opponent to get back up until they are properly contained. For a single opponent, a stunner or conjured ropes will generally suffice. For multiple opponents, you may be forced to injure, as your opponent's allies can easily counter most of the standard containment spells."

He eyed them, noting the scandalized expressions on a few. "I'm sure you can see this is not for school-yard altercations. This is only if you are about to die. I cannot stress that enough. This isn't about getting one over on the local bully. This is to protect you and your families."

He waited for understanding to settle over their faces. "Now, here is the hardest part of what I'm going to tell you. When you have no choice, you are outnumbered and you are not sure you can win, it is better to kill than contain."

He held up a hand to stop the argument that was about to break out. "It takes added time to disarm and bind an opponent. If you are outmatched, it means that you are taking added care – expending energy – that you cannot afford to lose. You are hesitating, choosing spells that will not cause serious damage. They are not hesitating. They do not care if you die. In fact, they prefer that you do. This will give them the advantage."

He sighed. "It is at that point that you take the gloves off and make sure the other man dies first."

Susan Bones, frowning, spoke up as she tucked a strand of red hair behind an ear. "I hate to admit it, but what you just said sounds an awful lot like what my aunt told me."

Sephiroth nodded. "It's a sad reality. If you are in a life or death situation, you either have to choose to give up your life so that your attacker can win or you have to choose to live – by sacrificing his life for yours."

Susan's friend, Hannah Abbott, swallowed heavily. "But, killing? And, how? I mean, we don't know anything fatal."

Sephiroth cocked his head. "You don't? You haven't learned a cutting hex? You can't levitate a heavy object over someone's head? You can't banish sharp objects into someone? Killing is easy. It's when you realize that you are still alive that things become more difficult."

He let them sit in thoughtful silence for a few moments, then stood up and dusted his hands on his pants. "For today, now that I have sufficiently soured everyone's mood and hopefully given you food for thought, we're going to learn to disarm. So, let's pair up and practice our _Expelliarmus."_

* * *

  
**Omake By Akasha Drake**

_We have a reviewer's Omake. For those who don't know, it's a story extra that is not considered an actual event. Think bloopers or outtakes. I asked to share this, as I know most reviewers don't read the other comments on FFN and I don't expect the people on AO3 to go gallivanting over there just to read them. Anyway, here it is._   


I can see it now:

Susan Bones looked up at Severus Snape, and frowned. There was no reason for his hair to be so oily. And the style was all wrong for his face. With the lessened anger he showed to everyone, surely someone would...then she realized. Maybe everyone thought the same. So she carefully, slowly stepped up to the almost empty Head table in the Great Hall. "Professor Snape?"

Professor Snape looked warily at the slightly chubby Hufflepuff. After the events of today, he was unsure if he should be worried about this. "Yes, Miss Bones?" he asked softly, fingering his wand carefully.

"I was wondering if you'd like me to see if I can do something with your hair," Susan offered softly.

And in Dumbledore's office, the instruments that normally monitored Harry Potter, and the wards of Hogwarts, instead of cheerfully whistling began to harmonize a single song. "It's the End Of Te World As We Know It"

And where he was sitting with Hermione in the library, Sephiroth had the sudden impulse to sing softly, "And I feel fine" causing trepidation to fill the hearts of every Muggleborn in the room to recognize the song.

_Again, not mine. Unedited. I just copied and pasted. All credit goes to Akasha Drake. I now return you to your regularly scheduled notes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of today's chapter, I'd say half of it – or more – came straight out of ideas inspired by my conversations with Gill. I think we all owe a big round of applause, yes? 
> 
> That was a rather serious chapter, wasn't it? I'll try to bring some more humor in on the next one.
> 
> Conversation with Snape – Still rather reserved. I imagine that will fade with future discussion. But, at least he's accepted help. He sees it as a logical step if he doesn't want to commit homicide.
> 
> Conversation with Hermione – She didn't try to hide what she'd done. That, was the biggest thing that let him listen to her. She didn't back down or make excuses, just admitted it. (She did learn from their conversation at Grimmauld.) This made it easier for him to remain calm and actually listen. Equivocation is not something that he has any patience with.
> 
> Luna not only has her marbles, but they glow – Three guesses what they are and the first two don't count. The Lovegood family researches weird, strange and wonderful things while traveling the world in search of odd creatures. Is is any surprise that she might have Support Materia? Might not know what they are, but she has them.
> 
> Fudge, you idiot.- I didn't intend for that scene to play out that way. But, I was thinking about the Statute of Secrecy. Then, I asked myself: if I were as big an idiot as Fudge and I saw a massive breach of the Statute, what would I do?
> 
> Arguments over how easy Expelliarmus is – Well, at that point, our students were just glad he wasn't asking them to learn the AK. They were too distracted to think about how simple that spell is. And, he'd already given them incentive to learn it.
> 
> John Major – UK Prime Minister from 1990-1997. I don't know him. I know a name and a pic off of Wikipedia. No disrespect is intended in any way, shape or form. 
> 
> Combat Syndrome – There have been quite a few euphemisms/names for PTSD over the years. I didn't find this on the list, so hopefully I made it up. Seriously, though, I needed something for them to call it in Midgar and I didn't want to go with Combat Fatigue or Shell Shock. If you want the full rundown on symptoms, you can Google PTSD and hit whatever website you wish. The NIMH site is decent for layman's reference, but the Wikipedia article is also pretty good and covers the evolution of diagnosis.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Disclaimer **
> 
> Well, we don't own this.   
> Wouldn't mind the money from it.   
> Don't want the paperwork, though.
> 
> ** Author's Note **
> 
> In 2006, I posted the first chapter of Bind the Serpent on FFN – a story in desperate need of both a rewrite and an ending. Last year, I started posting the Sephiroth Potter series. Even with all the the time Bind the Serpent has been available, Seph Potter has already hit over eighty percent of the page views that BtS has. Its over 101k combined for the Seph Potter stories on FFN, as opposed to almost 124k for Bind the Serpent.
> 
> Wow. Just wow.

# Chapter Fourteen

In the deepest part of the planet's core, there was an ocean of green swirling energy. This ocean was the life force of the world. In Ancient times, it was called the Lifestream. In modern times, wizards and some muggles tried to track it and called the flow 'ley lines.' They only knew it was the energy of the planet.

They didn't realize that an older race had recognized it for what it truly was: a river – well, more like a sea – of souls.

Everyone who died would return to that sea. They would then be spun out of it again. The Cetra believed that one could be a tree in the next life, or an animal. No one had ever gotten a definitive answer on whether that was accurate. Some would balk at the implication that they could become a 'lower' life form, but the Cetra held that all life was equal.

Time, when one was dead, was also relative. There was no day or night to distinguish. Things could be happening in a moment or an eternity. Souls could even move forward and back through time.

As it was, Cloud was drifting back and forth. His soul was lazing around in the comfort and care of the others around him. Emotions, thoughts and feelings passed freely between them. There were no words, because there didn't need to be. It was the ultimate communication.

He drifted...

He could feel Aeris and Zack every now and then. He'd felt Tseng and Reno. And, hadn't that been a surprise? The whiny little street rat had a kinder soul than Cloud had expected. Tseng felt things far more deeply than he'd ever imagined. The two, however, withdrew into the same small eddy as Rude and a few of the other deceased Turks.

They were wary and clannish, even in death.

He drifted...

He hadn't felt Aeris in a while. Zack had drifted past recently, though he was gone at the moment. He absently pondered where his friend went, then relaxed back into the souls around him. It was so very calm and peaceful here. Much more peaceful, now that Sephiroth had stopped his semi-violent swirl through their number...

_Wait..._

_Where..._

_Is..._

_Sephiroth...?_

His 'eyes' snapped open and Cloud started searching, the amorphous feeling of purely spiritual panic slinging through him. This couldn't be good.

* * *

Classes were going to always be the bane of his existence. It was true when he was a young SOLDIER, and it was true now. Sephiroth had always understood the written word more quickly than the other SOLDIERs in his classes. That trait, with the re-emergence of his memories, had manifested in Harry. It was even more prominent now that he was tapping into those memories so extensively.

He wasn't as bored in a classroom when they were working on the practical. Harry did need to learn that, but that had never taken long even without his memories. Still, he could help Ron and Hermione and it would keep him entertained. The theory lectures, on the other hand...

He'd had four sharp looks from Professor McGonagall and the period was only half over. Every time she noticed him fiddling with something or absently doodling on his parchment, she shot a question at him. Every time she did, he answered correctly. He wasn't trying to ignore her or distract her from the other students. It was just inevitable at this point.

Finally, class was dismissed. He gathered his things and started to leave, only to have her call him over. "Mister Potter?"

He approached her desk. Ron and Hermione continued out of the room, feeling comfortable leaving him with their Head of House. Unlike some teachers – Umbridge being either a shining or tarnished example, depending on your perspective – she had never tried to harm him. "Yes, Professor?"

She shifted a few parchments on her desk and then pinned him under her gaze. "While I am pleased with the turnaround, I have to wonder what has caused this new bout of studiousness?"

"I'm not studying and more than I already was. It's... I'm retaining it more easily thanks to my past life..." He gave her a sheepish look. "It's no reflection on your lectures, but theory classes are boring now, as a result."

She pursed her lips, but nodded. "Very well, then. During my lecture, you are welcome to read ahead in your book. You may ask me any questions you have. Then, come to me when you've finished with that book and I'll quiz you on it. If you've retained enough, I'll give you another book to read."

He felt the relief settle in his shoulders and back. He had grown fond of McGonagall – even if he didn't trust her to always listen when there was a problem – and didn't want to inadvertently upset her. "Thank you, Professor."

"You're quite welcome, Mister Potter. Keep in mind, though, that many of the books at your level will reiterate what you may have already learned. It will generally be from a different perspective, however." She gave him a small smile. "Not that different perspectives are a bad thing to have. They may, in fact, help you attain a higher level of understanding."

"I will, Professor."

"Very good." She turned back to her parchments, and he took it for the dismissal that it was.

* * *

Though Ron thought he was insane, Hermione was delighted with the compromise. At her suggestion, he spoke to Professor Flitwick and was provided the same opportunity. Astronomy was also split between practical and lecture. The Astronomy professor, Sinistra, was gleeful at the request for further reading. He got the impression that she didn't get many interested students. Herbology was almost entirely practical, with assigned reading for after class. As he wasn't really interested, he skipped asking Professor Sprout.

He also didn't bother trying to talk to Umbridge. The woman was worse than useless where his studies were concerned. He'd also pretty much stopped attending her class, so that made the whole thing a moot point, anyway.

Like Herbology, Potions classes were almost entirely practical. This was due to Snape's teaching style. The students were expected to read the theory in their own time and ask questions later – if they felt brave enough to do so. Professor Snape did stop him after their next class to arrange regular times to have their version of therapy, but that was it.

Amusingly, by the end of the day he'd had several DA members ask him what arch support was. It wasn't just the purebloods, either. He'd been certain that the muggleborns would know so he was more than a bit surprised. Still, he did his best to be patient as he explained the concept. Repeatedly.

At least they didn't get upset when he put a moratorium on questions at dinner. Keeping Umbridge from noticing anything strange going on was just a bonus - he wanted to eat in peace. He made a mental note not to assign homework again, if possible.

He arrived to their arranged session that night to find Professor Snape in his office examining a small oval amulet. On his desk was a small cardboard box of similar, though un-worked, pieces of gold. The professor set the amulet down on the desk and nodded. "Mister Potter."

"Professor." He eyed the box. "May I inquire...?"

"This is for you, actually." Snape came around his desk to sit in the other chair near him, passing him the box and amulet as he did. "I think Miss Lovegood suggested it, though I'm not certain if that was her intent or not."

Harry laughed quietly. "Luna is difficult to read sometimes. Her idea of sane and the way the reality interprets the concept are two entirely different things. She seems fairly harmless, though."

Snape raised an eyebrow, and Harry knew that he'd latched onto the qualifier. That was another holdover from Sephiroth – he never trusted appearances. The professor nodded. "I haven't had extensive interactions with her, but that does appear to be the case."

Sephiroth leaned back in the chair, raising his own brow. "What, precisely, am I supposed to do with this?"

Snape didn't move, beyond the slightest motion of one shoulder. "Some muggle therapies involve what they call 'Arts and Crafts.' I will admit that I'm not certain as to the therapeutic purpose of the activity. However, the particular amulet you are holding is exceedingly rare and valuable. If nothing else, learning to reproduce it would provide you an income should you later need it."

Sephiroth nodded. "Therefore, even if it does nothing for therapy, it's not a completely wasted effort. I approve." He paused. "If I succeed, would you like the first one? We can call it payment for the materials, as opposed to a gift from student to teacher, since I understand that would likely be out of bounds if these are that expensive."

"That would be acceptable," Snape agreed.

Sephiroth smirked slightly, fully recognizing that it was as close to thanks as he was likely to get from the taciturn man. He looked down at the disk, running his finger lightly across the runes. "I did not take Ancient Runes. Perhaps Hermione will let me borrow her books."

"The library also has several volumes on the topic, of course, if that proves to be a problem." Snape leaned back in his own chair. "Why did you not take Runes?"

"Hermione tried to persuade me to." Harry set the box and amulet down on a nearby corner of the desk. "I just... Ron was taking Divination and Care."

"I see. So, you chose to follow him into those classes. Why did you follow him, instead of Miss Granger?"

Snape's expression was carefully neutral. Sephiroth couldn't determine if there was condemnation there or not, and his eyes only reflected curiosity. He supposed that he wasn't supposed to know. "Well, Ron... I think he needs me. He has siblings, yet – in some ways – he's almost as alone as I was. He feels he has to live up to them, and I think that it puts a... distance... between them. Not some gaping chasm, but... a bit of resentment."

"And Miss Granger?"

"She..." Harry wasn't sure how to word it without sounding like he was disparaging her. He wasn't, but it was a flaw in their relationship. Finally, he settled on: "She needs friends, yes, but not as much as she needs to excel. Being the best is how she defines herself. If I had been in the class with her, she would have pushed herself further and wanted to push me to higher levels, too. I didn't want her drive to get in the way of our friendship."

"Understandable, if counter productive to your own advancement." Snape picked a bit of lint off of his robes. "Are they your only close friends in this life?"

"Yes." Sephiroth nodded.

"What about your last life?"

He stiffened slightly. Images of Genesis, prematurely aged and Angeal turned into some form of bio-mechanical monstrosity played behind his eyes. He smelled the blood spreading across the ground from Zack's bullet riddled body. "They... We handled a situation badly, and we all wound up suffering for it."

He watched the internal debate play out behind Snape's eyes. Finally, the professor came to a decision. "Do you feel up to telling me how?"

Sephiroth sucked in a breath, then let it out past the tension forming in his chest and throat. He knew he would have to talk about it eventually, but... "Not yet."

"All right." Snape called for a house elf and ordered a pot of tea. Sorting out cups and condiments allowed Sephiroth to compose himself. "Tell me about you that life when you were off the battlefield."

He took a sip. "It was very regimented most of the time. There is always something that has to be done when you're leading an army, even when you're at home. It can be as annoying as retrieving your men from whatever detention facility they're in, or as tedious as approving supply paperwork. At other points, there are... times when the schedules is thrown out the window because your immediate subordinate's apprentice has decided to crash into the roof of a church."

The professor choked, having been in mid-drink. "The roof?"

"Oh, yes." Sephiroth smirked at him. "Midgar was built on two levels. When the city – well, cities – were first founded, they were all at ground level. The buildings seldom exceeded two or three stories tall. In time, the cities merged into one – Midgar – and the old towns were referred to simply by numbers.

"Of course, Shin-Ra wanted a district for the more affluent to reside and yet still have easy access to the tower they were building in the very center. For that reason, they built the Plate." He held his saucer a few inches above the table. "At ground level, were the slums. In the center of the Plate, the citizens could ride a train up a spiraling track that circled the base of Shin-Ra tower. The Plate, as we called it due to the circular structure, covered the slums and kept them in perpetual shadow. There were lights on all the streets, of course, and there were more suspended from the bottom of the structure. This architect's nightmare was supported by massive columns in each sector and at the center."

Snape nodded his understanding, so he continued: "As I said, the eight cities that once merged to form Midgar were referred to by number – Sectors One through Eight. In the center, Shin-Ra tower was Sector Zero – or Zed, depending on how you wish to say it. At the time Zack fell, the Sector Five section of the Plate was incomplete. He fell and, well, crashed straight through the roof of the old church."

He met Snape's amused gaze with a wry smile. "You have no idea how much paperwork that caused. Angeal had him cleaning toilets for weeks."

"Angeal?"

"I was at the top, General of the Army. My seconds – and best friends – were Commanders Angeal Hewley and Genesis Rhapsodos." He smirked. "Sometimes, they caused more trouble than the rest of the army combined. Angeal had taken Zack under his wing, possibly to save all of Shin-Ra from absolute destruction. The antics of that Puppy..."

"Puppy?"

"Mm. He was always over-eager. He'd bounce with excitement at even the hint of a mission..."

* * *

It was, perhaps, for the best that they didn't have to (could not) spend all their time at the school. Genesis was certain that he would have gone insane if they'd tried. Not only was there the typical teenage foolishness, but the overpowering stench that was humanity. (He did whack Angeal's shoulder for suggesting that he fit right in with his melodrama.)

It wasn't that the students were unwashed, quite the contrary, but that they were exceedingly hormonal and releasing large amounts of indicators into the air around him. While most of the school had average levels for places inhabited by large groups of teenagers, the Defense classroom reeked of fear. The Potions classroom wasn't much better, and there were strange smelling components on top of that. It was just his luck that they were seeking out the Potions Master and, therefore, couldn't avoid it.

Invis, or Vanish, materia were beyond rare. Genesis was extremely lucky to have found one that day in Modeoheim, a small abandoned town just south of Icicle Inn. He had used it many times over the years, both to explore and to escape. The materia had served he and Angeal well these last few weeks as they were sneaking around laying out their traps for the 'High Inquisitor.' A few field tests had proven that even the portraits couldn't see them.

They could, however, see the door to Snape's office swing open and then slowly close.

So could Severus Snape.

The potions master raised one eyebrow as the seats in front of his desk shifted. The cushions depressed as if there were people seated there. He calmly drew his wand. _"Hominem revelio."_

He cocked his head to one side, keeping his wand at the ready. "Care to identify yourselves?"

A brief moment focusing on his Dispel materia had the two of them shimmering into the visible spectrum. Genesis gave a small smile. "Commander Genesis Rhapsodos at your service, Professor Snape." He gestured to his right. "And this is Commander Angeal Hewley."

Snape's eyebrows rose, confusion flitting through the black depths. "I was under the impression that the two of you would be dead by now."

Genesis shifted positions for a moment and then leaned back and crossed his legs in front of him. The chair was amazingly comfortable, even if it didn't look like it should be. "We were. Well, Angeal was. I'm just remarkably well preserved."

The professor tilted his head to the other side, processing that statement and the likelihood of receiving straight answers to the questions that sprang to mind. A slight smirk hovered around the corners of his lips after a few seconds. "There are witches that would kill to know what brand of moisturizer you use."

A startled laugh escaped Genesis, echoed by Angeal's quiet snort. Genesis shook his head. The flatly delivered, though humorous, comment diffused the tense atmosphere a little. "I'm sorry to say that it's all natural."

"Is there some reason that you have seen fit to disturb me? Or is this simply a way of distracting me from some other happening in the castle?"

"We actually wanted to know what your intentions are towards Sephiroth." Snape had picked up his lukewarm cup of tea to take a swallow. Genesis had expected a classic spit-take, but was a bit disappointed that he didn't get one.

"My 'intentions' towards Sephiroth?" Snape repeated the phrase, curling his lips and tongue around it with rising disbelief as his eyes narrowed into a glare. "Despite the length of his hair, he is no fair maiden and I am not courting him. I intend to teach him and ensure that he makes it through his school career without needlessly slaughtering the residents of the school."

Genesis raised one eyebrow. "So, you're not planning to torture, experiment, or turn him into a weapon for whichever side you are supporting this week?"

Snape recovered his equilibrium and reined in his temper, leaning back in his seat with his teacup firmly in hand. "If that is the type of behavior your previous mentors exhibited, you are well shot of them."

At Genesis' look, he continued. "No, I do not intend to do anything to him in that vein." He paused for a moment. "What he may choose to do, as a result of the politics around him, is up to him. He is adamant that Voldemort is not gone, despite having vanquished him a second time. Therefore, I intend to ensure that as many people survive the coming war as possible. That may not be as difficult as I thought, should he continue to defend his fellow students."

Angeal eyed him for a few moments. "So, you're not going to force him into it, but you won't turn down the help?"

The professor nodded. "Precisely."

Angeal nodded in thought. "I don't think there's anything wrong with that. Gen?"

Genesis shook his head. "As much as I wish otherwise, I suppose we're about to be embroiled in another Battle for the Fate of the World."

Professor Snape looked at him, ignoring Angeal's eye roll at the phrasing and near-audible capitalization. "We?"

Thin lips tugged upwards into a smirk. "My dear professor, surely you didn't believe that we would ever allow our friend to enter a conflict without us? Now, tell us about the major players from your perspective. Please."

Snape quirked an eyebrow, recognizing that it was more demand than request. Deciding to comply, he refilled his cup and started talking.

* * *

Harry was on the floor, laughing so hard that he was holding his sides and attempting – with varied success – to keep from literally rolling around in his mirth. He had divided his 'class' into two groups and set them up with fairly rugged terrain, then told them to battle it out. No deaths or serious injuries were allowed, but he hadn't forbidden pranks.

He had split the Twins, one to each side. He'd also allowed fifteen minutes for each side to set their initial plans of attack. As a result, each group was armed with prank spells that were disruptive, humiliating, and – in Sephiroth's opinion – brilliant. He would have loved to have had half this ammunition in Wutai!

The rules also stated that anyone hit with a spell had to move to the 'penalty box' near his own position as judge. Genesis, in full royal-blue peacock feathers, glared at him from the box, even as a bright purple and green polka-dotted Angeal joined him. "This is not amusing."

He looked at the two of them again and snickered. "Yes. Yes, it is."

Fred, sporting a neon-orange mohawk, made his way over and took a seat with a rueful grin. "Next time, I want to be on Hermione's team. She's right lethal."

Harry nodded. "If you can get her to stop thinking about what spell to use and get her to actually cast? Her aim is incredibly good, and her repertoire is impressive. I would have given my left arm to have her in the mountains of Wutai."

Fred eyed him oddly, prompting Genesis to explain: "That's his sword arm."

The younger ginger nodded his understanding and examined the battlefield. Harry surveyed it as well, with a feeling not unlike fatherly pride. Bits of transfigured weirdness littered the space. There were odds and ends that he recognized – toilet paper, paint, half a rather quickly animated and destroyed stone lion, and a radish amongst others – and some he didn't. He wasn't sure who had transfigured the three foot wide shoehorn, or why. Still, it was distracting.

He did a quick head count, compared the members of the various teams, and called a halt. Fred's team was down to two standing members. George and Hermione still had most of their team and had just taken the high ground. There was still a chance, but he didn't think the remaining two were skilled enough to practice true guerrilla warfare as of yet. Not and win, at least.

"Gather round, everyone... Yes, Genesis, you can use a Dispel. Link it to an All, would you?" The spell effects reversed, leaving grinning and otherwise unmarked trainees behind. "You've done quite well. I want an honest show of hands, though. How many of you have noticed that prolonged casting is easier?"

He gave a satisfied smile as almost every hand went up. "Very good. Next meeting, we're going to go over some household charms that Hermione found. She has some interesting ideas for using cleaning and cooking spells on the battlefield. What's even better, is that they use less energy than the similar 'combat' spells used by most witches and wizards.

"The upside? You'll last longer than they will in terms of pure power. Remember, though, that these spells don't have the energy to punch through shields. For that reason, we'll also be covering how to use normal combat spells to break shields before following up with the simpler spells we'll be discussing. Also, please remember that cooking your classmates might earn you more than a simple detention if you use it in the halls."

He noticed quite a few of the members eying Genesis and snickering. He let his slightly malevolent smirk show. Ignore him, would they? "Next meeting, I'll also have full workups on what you did right, with tips to avoid what you did wrong. Now, for the second half of our time, Genesis has agreed to help you practice avoiding spells. There will be no shield spells used – you are to just dodge. The game, which I'm sure some of us will enjoy, is called Dodge Fireball. Genesis?"

He sat down next to a laughing Angeal. The dark-haired SOLDIER bumped his shoulder against him. "'Some of us?'"

Sephiroth snickered. "Well, I'm sure the three of us count as 'some.'"

* * *

Voldemort set the heavy tome down on the table, then flipped the cover closed. It was the last book in the Malfoy library that he'd hoped would provide an answer. Unfortunately, it didn't have much information. The ritual he'd used was an extremely modified version of a much older spell, supposedly found inscribed on tablets over two thousand years ago. The tablets had vanished into the sands of time.

The ritual itself had been preserved, translated and altered by the same wizards that had perfected the Horcrux – primarily the Egyptians and wizards in the Far East. If information on Horcruxes was merely hard to obtain, finding information on the ritual was almost impossible. The book he'd found the spell in originally, written by a German wizard that had assisted in a dig on the Giza Plateau in the 1920s, had only a few references to where further information could be found. Those references had been destroyed in purges after Grindelwald fell from power.

It looked like he was going to have to plan a trip to Egypt and, possibly, the Orient.

* * *

In the wilds of Alaska, a single wolf trudged its way out of freezing water. Soaked to the skin, it should have been dead a dozen times over in the dangerously cold winter air. Instead, it shook water off of itself. The water, tinged with the faint residue of Mako, hit the ground and hissed for a second before lying dormant. When next spring hit, the ground would be far more fertile than any would have expected.

The wolf padded forward cautiously before it rose to its hind legs and slowly morphed into a naked and well-muscled young man. He ran a hand through black, spiky hair before turning sharply to the right. The others were that way. Quite a distance that way, it seemed. He frowned down at himself, wondering how the others had made clothes, then shrugged and resumed his wolf form. He could always run until he ran out of land.

While he ran, he'd work out how to sprout a wing and clothes so that he could reach them more easily. It couldn't be that hard, right?

Zack Fair, the infamous 'puppy,' was bound and determined to catch up with his family.

* * *

_** Sirius Black Innocent – Bagnold Dropped Ball ** _

_by I.M. Amaysed_

_Recent events have shown us that the Ministry of Magic isn't as infallible as it would like to appear. In addition to mistakenly charging a legal adult – Harry Potter, no less – with underage magic violations, we learned that Sirius Black had never received a trial. That long-delayed trial began and ended yesterday, in the extremely packed Courtroom Ten._

_Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt estimates that there were approximately one hundred and fifty witches and wizards present in addition to the entirety of the Wizengamot. This full attendance is a rarity, since only two thirds of the members are normally required to achieve a quorum to decide any matter that comes before that august body._

_In a surprising move, the defendant volunteered to testify under the influence of Veritaserum. In his testimony, Sirius Black revealed that he not only wasn't the Potter's Secret Keeper, but the real traitor was the very person he was accused of killing. What's more, that same treasonous wizard – Peter Pettigrew – is still alive._

_Testing of Black's wand revealed that he did not cast any spell that could have caused the infamous explosion on the street that day in 1981. The most notable spell retrieved was a mild tanning charm._

_The Wizengamot proceeded to vote on the matter and swiftly came to a decision. Forty-seven chose to acquit, while eight proclaimed guilty. On the charge of escaping Azkaban, the defended was acquitted on the basis of extended illegal imprisonment, 43-15. On the charge of failing to register an Animagus form, he was sentenced to one year – time served, 45-10._

_Also up for debate was reparations for Black's imprisonment. The final agreement was to pay the salary he would have received as an Auror, had he not been arrested and continued in his career path. As this includes pay raises, the settlement came to an incredible four hundred thousand galleons, 40-18._

_The money will be raised by fining the parties responsible for his incarceration. Who are they? Former Minister Bagnold, Chief Warlock Dumbledore, and Bartemius Crouch, Senior – current Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation, who was then Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement._

_For further information:_

_Spot the Traitor – Pettigrew in Detail, pg 2_  
The Black Lordship – To Ascend or Not To Ascend?, pg 3  
Miscarriages of Justice – How to Send an Innocent Man to Jail, pg 4  
Custody vs Emancipation – Can Black Petition For Potter?, pg 5 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The husband is working on living his new lifestyle. I owe the ER half an apology, by the way. They explained the lack of drugs to my satisfaction. The lack of a monitor for his blood sugar, on the other hand...
> 
> Mom, by the way, is doing well. She hasn't gotten any better, of course, but she isn't any worse. Unless you count a tendency to talk to me while I'm trying to write. As it's a sign that she's alive, I'm rather forgiving of it.
> 
> I do apologize for taking so long to update. In addition to wrestling with this chapter, the stresses of real life have me seesawing back and forth on an emotional roller coaster. It makes updating a bit difficult. Again, still not really satisfied with the chapter, but here it is.
> 
> Aeris/Aerith – I grew up playing the Final Fantasy series and the version of VII that I played (the original US release) spelled it Aeris. So, that's what I'm used to. In the notes, as I'm sure you've seen, I use both. It would break the flow to do that in the story.
> 
> Cloud – How long did that scene cover? It could have been a second or an eternity. No scene breaks, no definition of time. Did he realize Seph was gone within moments or days? Weeks? Years? Cloud doesn't know. He just knows that Sephiroth has a kink for causing trouble and is gone. 
> 
> Snape – is not a licensed professional. So, he's winging it based on what he knows and/or has experienced. As he's never had therapy, either, he's just muddling along and trying to provide an ear. I think it's going well. I could be wrong.
> 
> Guest Reviews – I accept guest reviews. However, if you want me to answer, you either need to be on AO3 where I can reply directly on the page or sign in to FFN. I will not reply to a chapter by chapter summary review in my ANs. They get too long as it is.
> 
> I will answer the following, however, as others might want to know: 
> 
> -Sub-vocalization is how I learned to refer to the use of non-audible murmur (NAM) microphones. I am aware that it is not the common textbook definition. (Feel free to look that up.) Depending on the model, NAM mics pick up the vibrations of the throat or words murmured so quietly that they appear to not be vocalized. This is then translated into sound or amplified for transmission. 
> 
> While the boys' ears aren't quite good enough to translate simple vibration, they can hear sounds that are far too quiet for normal human hearing... That was rather clearly indicated in context in Chapter 3. I will not explain every term in every chapter.
> 
> -Fiendfyre vs. Flare. Sure, he could have used Flare. But, think of it as a field test. You try a new spell on the small fry before you use it against the big guys. Also, Harry may have been Light, but Sephiroth is a Dark Wizard. (Mad or not, he nearly destroyed a planet and that was after subjugating it for the financial interests of Shin-Ra. This does not make him a good or "Light" person.) Harry, in canon, uses two of the three Unforgivables.
> 
> -Don't credit the wizarding world with a lot of intelligence. These are the people that: leave toddlers on doorsteps on cold November nights (Dumbledore), believe the Daily Prophet (Molly Weasley & Mrs. Finnegan), run about with a loose werewolf in spite of the danger to the general populace (The Marauders), and voted Fudge into office (either the general population or the Wizengamot).
> 
> -As for Useless!Dumbledore... Don't you mean Canon!Dumbledore? He had sixteen years to figure out how Voldie survived. Sixteen years to gather and destroy Horcruxes. What does he do? Sit there and wait for a child to get old enough to handle it. Let's not get into all the ways he botched his interactions with Tom Riddle, the child who would be Voldemort.
> 
> Purple Materia – I made a mistake. At least it was only in the notes, right? Purple Materia is Independent Materia, not Support. Support is blue. Examples of Independent are Chocobo Lure or Luck Plus. Support would include Final Attack or Elemental, pairing with another Materia to use a last attack or add an element to weapon or armor (respectively). Red Materia are Summons. Green Materia are Magic. Yellow Materia (Command) gives a character skills such as Steal, Deathblow, or Throw.
> 
> With that in mind, I've had a couple of suggestions as to what Materia Luna has. Anyone else want to chime in? I've settled on Chocobo Lure and Long Range. The third is up for grabs. Check the Final Fantasy Wiki if you need a list and/or ideas for what you might like to see. I'm also still trying to decide if she actually can lure a Chocobo. Do they still exist? Is that the mythical Crumple-Horned Snorkack?


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer
> 
> I don't own Harry and company.  
> I don't own Sephiroth and friends.  
> The first, I don't mind so much.  
> The second... well, disappointment is character-building.
> 
> Note
> 
> The strangest thing occurred to me just recently. In Final Fantasy, bosses have their own 'boss-immunity.' This immunity makes them invulnerable to things like poison, petrification, and death spells. I have to ponder this a bit and think – is this how Sephiroth/Harry survived the Avada Kedavra? A mundane explanation, far more so than throwing it off by sheer force of will. Still, there are other creatures immune to Death in the Final Fantasy realm, so I suppose it might just be a force of will thing. After all, aren't 'boss' monsters supposed to have more strength (of body and/or will) than regular ones? Still, for the purposes of this fic, it has been established as a simple act of will.
> 
> The variant that occurred to me is open to anyone that wants to play with it, in whatever setting. I may write something up with it later, too. If I ever finish the other stories on my list.
> 
> And, so we begin chapter fifteen. Remember, though, that sometimes even the best fighter can be taken by surprise.

**Chapter Fifteen**

Harry was less than pleased a few evenings later. Umbridge had apparently discovered a workaround to his spells. He was whisked to her office by a very put-upon house elf with no time to cast anything, much less his selective invisibility. Instead, he was bound to a chair by thick ropes and his wand snatched from his hand before he'd even begun to process that he'd moved.

He glanced around the atrociously pink office, tested his bonds a bit, and let his gaze settle on the frazzled Inquisitor. He didn't bother to hide the smirk that hovered around his lips. Over the last few days, they'd managed quite a bit more mischief where she was concerned. It showed in her slightly messy hair and singed robes.

There was a lingering stain on her shoulder from where owls had repeatedly left messy 'gifts' every time they'd flown past. That prank, an attraction spell perfected by the Weasley twins, was probably the most amusing. Most of the time, they successfully hit her. As the owl post came with breakfast, their misses usually landed in her food. The other professors were intelligent enough to protect their own with small shields after the first attack. She either didn't know how or wasn't powerful enough.

Sephiroth was split evenly on which was most likely. Though, she obviously couldn't do a decent cleaning charm, either.

The glaring professor narrowed her eyes further as her face slowly reddened. He let his smirk widen to show just a hint of teeth. Yes, he knew she'd caught him. No, he didn't feel concerned about it at all.

"Mister Potter, you need to show more respect for my authority." She drew herself up pompously, inadvertently showing him a flash of droppings that she'd missed near her collar. "I am a duly appointed representative of the Ministry. You are just a student. I... What are you laughing at?"

"You, madam, are – I hope – not representative of the Ministry. If you are, then our world is in more trouble than I thought." He went on as she opened her mouth to interrupt him. "After all, you can't even manage a simple cleaning charm."

She gaped at him a moment and he let his eyes flick to the waste. Her hand came up and horror flashed through her eyes. He watched her pull her wand and try to spell away the debris. Inwardly he nodded, her pronunciation was off. Her wand movements weren't very good, either. The power coming from the wand was sufficient, just poorly directed. That meant her visualization was off, as well. In short, she'd never manage an efficient spell that way.

"That is not up to you to decide, Mister Potter." She regained some semblance of equilibrium. "You are merely a child. You have no right to judge what the Ministry is or is not."

Sephiroth raised one eyebrow. "'The heftiest penalty for declining to rule is to be ruled by someone inferior to yourself.' I refuse to assent to such a fate. This is, whether you like it or not, a country that belongs to its people. Not the people to the government."

"Well! I... Who taught you such treasonous things? These horrible ideas must be stamped out immediately!" Umbridge's eyes had widened and she was breathing heavily in agitation.

He chuckled. "The quote was from a man named Plato. You may have heard of him. He wrote this interesting book called The Republic."

She snatched for a quill and parchment, writing it down. "I have not heard of the miscreant, but you can be assured that his book will be banned and he will have to answer some questions at the Ministry."

He almost choked on his own tongue.

Her furious eyes met his. "Well? Where can he be found?"

He bit his lip, trying so very hard not to laugh. "Well, I'm not precisely sure. You might try Athens, though. I'm sure someone there can tell you where he 'takes his rest.'"

"Hmph." She tossed her quill on the table. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. He wished he could be a fly on the wall when she called the Greek ministry about deportation! "Very well, Mister Potter. In the meantime, we are going to get on with your detentions."

She brought out the quill and he shook his head. No. He wasn't going to do that again, thank you very much. He'd already had to have the house elves repair her office once. He wasn't going to waste any more time – or blood – on this woman. She certainly wasn't worth it.

A simple bit of concentration had his wand in his hand and the ropes falling to the floor. He smiled at her, and almost purred his next words into her startled face. "I am so very sorry, Professor. I have other things planned. Good evening."

A flick of his wand and he vanished from her sight. He took several steps to the side and watched in amusement as she pawed the air where he had been. Finally, after dodging her as she searched the office for several more minutes, she gave up.

"Well, I suppose I can get one thing done." She crossed to the fire and threw some powder into it. "Cornelius! We need to talk to the Greek Ministry! Someone there is sowing dissent into the students."

He focused on his JENOVA cells and tested the wards. Grinning when he realized he could bypass them, he teleported himself to the kitchens. Baiting the toad was hungry work. He imagined the conversation with the Greeks again...

The house elves were too well-mannered to look at the laughing man like he was crazy.

But... they wanted to.

* * *

Sephiroth smiled at his students. He'd gone over how they'd done during the skirmish, and he was proud of them. Not only had they not reacted badly to his criticisms, they didn't seem to be overestimating themselves due to his praise. He glanced at Genesis after sending them off for laps. "I wish all our SOLDIERs had been this attentive. We might not have lost so many."

Genesis eyed one of the younger males, a Creevy. The boy was having trouble keeping up with the group that was currently running around the track. "Hm. Perhaps. They're nowhere near close to even Security level."

Angeal sighed. "They've only been doing this for a few sessions, and they're not enhanced. Give them time."

Sephiroth nodded. "I agree. Still, I do wish that we had our SOLDIERs back."

Angeal's right eyebrow slowly ascended towards his hairline. "I don't think we need an army. Not for this."

"No," Sephiroth agreed, "still these children are just that. Who knows what Riddle is going to do? I can't constantly watch them and their families to ensure their safety."

"Harry..." He turned to look at Hermione. Tendrils of her sweaty hair had escaped her ponytail and clung to the sides of her face. She absentmindedly tucked one strand behind her ear as she'd continued. "No one is asking you to do that. You're giving us the tools to protect ourselves. That's all that anyone here can ask."

He nodded reluctantly. "I suppose you're right."

Hermione smiled and made sure that he could see her moving as she wrapped an arm around him. It had taken only a few days of discussion to decide between them how she should behave when she wanted to touch. He had, after some cajoling, admitted that he hadn't really experienced much friendly contact and had agreed that she could – if she chose – try to accustom him to it. Even so, they'd had quite the conversation about what was and wasn't acceptable.

For now, though, he slowly looped an arm around her waist in return and the group waited for the students to finish their exercises. They watched Dennis stumble again and he frowned. He pondered for a moment that something wasn't quite right there. He just couldn't put his finger on it."Hermione?"

"Yes?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You might want to keep moving. Angeal is going to work on some basic martial arts with all of you when the rest of the group finishes their run."

"Yes, sir, General, sir." She smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder for a second before moving away.

He shot a glare at the amused looks Angeal and Genesis were giving him. "Shut up."

He tried to glower at them, but gave in to the smile as he heard their amused chuckles.

* * *

He was leaving dinner to go to the library a few evenings later, when he spotted Luna in the hallway. She'd apparently dropped her bag and was busily picking up all the books, pens and various oddities that she always carried. He paused for a moment and started helping her clean up the mess. His hand closed on a marble without really looking at it and he stopped to examine it.

"Luna, where did you get this?" She lifted her gaze from where she was examining the gurdy root for bruising at his question.

"Oh, my father and I found a whole bunch of those when we were exploring last summer."

He fought down the urge to grab her in his excitement. People didn't react well to that in his experience. "Really? How many is a 'bunch?'"

She smiled at him, knowing eyes watching behind a dreamy smile. "Oh, there was a chest full of them in some ruins. Why, do you like them?"

He rolled the Long Range Materia around in his fingers. It was just short of being mastered. His next thought was to wonder if killing Gaian monsters in the Room of Requirement would up its power. "I like them. I would go so far as to say that I'd love it if you would be willing to part with some."

She smiled at him. He didn't have to tell her that he wasn't threatening, or trying to be intimidating. It was part of what he liked about her: she always knew what he meant, even when he didn't. And, she didn't mind when he simply stated what he felt instead of showing it. "I would be more than willing to give you all of them. They're pretty, but I think you can find better uses. My only idea was to play marbles. I can have father send the chest, if you like?"

Looking at the Materia brought back so many memories. Delight warred with horror, terror, homesickness and pure, unadulterated joy. Sephiroth had been happy with Angeal and Genesis, but this was a piece of his _home_. And, a great help in combat. "Please, Luna?"

"Certainly."

* * *

Two days later, he stared at the chest in front of him. It was full of 'radioactive marbles,' as Hermione had teasingly dubbed them. The two of them, Angeal, Genesis, Ron and Luna were standing in the room of requirement. She was smiling, apparently well aware of the pure awe and joy he was feeling.

They watched as he pulled the Materia out of the chest, cataloging them in his mind. _Another Long Range, Bahamut, Neo-Bahamut, Phoenix, Mega-All, Enemy Skill, Chocobo Lure, Luck Plus, Fire, Ice, Lightning, Comet, Shield, Steal – no, Mug... And so many more... We can use the Room to have them Mastered in no time._

Genesis, he absently noted was starting a proper inventory. He listed them off and settled them into a compartmentalized box as Sephiroth handed them to him. Hermione was marking the information down on parchment. Angeal and Ron were just silently observing – Angeal with only slightly more interest than the youngest Weasley boy.

He froze and sucked in a breath when he reached the bottom of the chest. Resting there, in two indented cubby holes built into the velveteen bottom, were two more Materia. A white one, with a pink hair ribbon tied in a bow around it...

And a black Materia.

* * *

Dumbledore sighed inwardly as he listened to more complaints from the High Inquisitor. This was not what he'd signed up for when he defeated Gellert. Some small part of him wished that he'd just let his old lover win. He was fairly certain that he would have if he'd seen this toad in his future!

And why, with all the other things that were going on, was she ranting about arresting dead philosophers?

* * *

Zack didn't know that he was landing in front of an iconic landmark when he settled in front of the white cliffs of Dover. He knew he could have prepared better for this trip. But, he'd not wanted to keep the others waiting. He did discover a few things in the last week, however.

One, he could indeed sprout a wing. Two, even if it was similar in color to Angeal's, his was shaped more like Sephiroth's and had bits of darker wolf-fur in tiny tufts scattered around the feathers towards the top edge. Three, that fur muffled the noise of his wing when he moved it, making him far more stealthy than he'd expected when in flight. Four, making clothes was the hardest of the two achievements. Five, raw seafood tasted horrible. Six, making the wing disappear was the hardest part of having one – the adjustments to his balance were far easier. Finally, there were a lot more air ships on this world and being nearly sucked into an engine while trying to dodge one was a harrowing experience.

He turned his gaze north and nodded to himself before taking flight again.

* * *

A hand shot up through hard-packed earth. Dirty fingers scrabbled for purchase, pulling a naked man out of the turf. Mud, made with liquid Mako, streaked across his body and obscured most of it from view. A casual observer would have likened his appearance to old B-movie monsters. The twigs sticking out of his weighed-down hair lent credence to that theory.

He gave himself a few moments, just a few, to gasp in much-needed air. Then, pulling himself up on rubbery legs, he staggered to a nearby stream to wash.

Cloud Strife would stop Sephiroth from destroying this world, no matter what it took.

* * *

No one paid any notice to the man shrouded in dark cloth. It was, after all, fairly normal to obscure one's face from the blowing dust and dirt in Egypt. Far more normal than it would have been to see an obviously English face ducking into one of the darker-aligned shops in the tiny wizarding district. His badly accented Arabic, spoken to the shop owner, was a dead giveaway. "I need access to your more... interesting wares."

* * *

In the depths of the ocean, golden eyes glowed. A faint smile played across thin lips and a bat-like wing twitched. He was just waiting for the chaos to break out. Forces were gathering strength on all sides. And, whether his Host liked it or not, he would have to make an appearance soon.

* * *

**Omake**

_by Inuyashagirl7692_

I was wondering what it's be like if Cloud were Draco. Basically, Draco remembers everything that Sephiroth has done, including the fact that he just saved his life, and that's why he doesn't attack him the second he realizes who Harry is.

Draco took a step back, dumbfounded, "Sephiroth? You're… Harry Potter. The hero that's been saving everyone and me- Draco since first year?"

Harry slowly let his wand fall back to his sides, "Who are you?" Draco sighed and said, "Here's a hint: I've killed you twice."

"Cloud?" Genesis said, clapping his hands happily. He slapped Draco on the back, "This is great. The gang's almost all back together. Well, almost. We just need-"

"Zack," Crabbe said, his beady rat eyes glistening with mirth. "Good thing I finally remembered that I'm more than just a pea-brained bully with an unhealthy diet."

"Zack?" Harry mouthed.

"Yep."

"Zack?" Genesis asked.

Growing a little annoyed, Crabbed said, "Yes."

"Zack?"

"No, I was just feeling left out so I made it up." They all breathed sighs of relief. "Like hell! Why is it so hard to believe that I'm Zack Fair?"

Draco's shoulders seemed to be shaking a bit as he put both hands on Crabbe's shoulders and said, "Short and fat."

"What?"

"It's because you're short and fat, Zack." Draco burst out into stomach clutching laughter at his friend's unfortunate reincarnation. "You used to be so handsome, and now look at you. I could roll you up and bounce you." Harry allowed himself a small smile before telling Draco that he needed to be nicer to Crabbe. Draco gave him a sidelong look, bent his knees so he could look Harry in the eye and apologized to his very small General. I'll leave what happened next to your imagination, though I' assure you that he did survive the experience and wasn't permanently crippled. Crabbe did pout for quite a while and said he'd stop talking to Draco, even though he'd speak up every few minutes to remind Draco that he wasn't talking to him. Eventually, Draco apologized and said he wouldn't laugh at him anymore.^^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no formatting or changes to the Omake on my part. Simple cut'n'paste.
> 
> No, Draco isn't Cloud and Zack is – obviously – not Crabbe. Still, I found this hilarious. Feel free, anyone, to add your various snippets to me in either PM or review. I love reading them and they add fuel to the fire. 
> 
> We found out on the 13th of April (Sunday) that my brother had been dead since the preceding Tuesday. That information threw mom for a loop, and she's been descending slowly into senile dementia ever since. She is... quite frankly, heartbroken and, I think, giving up. Since then, she has forgotten what year it is and is having increasing trouble remembering the proper words to express herself.
> 
> For those interested, he was shopping with his younger son (age 15) and had a heart attack in a Walmart. The long and the short of it, the viewing was two Saturdays later and the actual funeral was the Tuesday after that. I did not get to attend due to having to stay here with mom. I understand that his older brother (age 23) is going to receive custody as their mother walked out (repeatedly) over the years. As a matter of fact, she walked out again during the funeral planning.
> 
> As always, fan fiction is my escape. Though, I'm having trouble writing anything but crack!fic at the moment. The more upset I get, the more fluffy and crack-y my writing gets. So, I'm very sorry if the chapter is more crack than usual. I did my best to tone it down.
> 
> In the meantime, the video was dying on my old motherboard. I have neither the time nor the inclination to break open the computer and fix the issue. (Plus, where would I find a replacement motherboard for a ten year old computer that wasn't refurbished junk?) So, a new one was called for. Luckily, I saved my fanfics and other files. Unluckily, that means I'm also getting used to a new keyboard, as it was going bad (too) and my new computer came with one.
> 
> Typing on this thing is a real pain. The keys are too far apart. I wind up typing three letters that I don't need for every six words. I know I'll get used to it eventually, though.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer
> 
> I don't own any of these guys, including the real ones.  
> No disrespect is intended to anyone.  
> I do own the situations, but only where the differ from the original storylines.  
> Sephiroth is not Lord Vader, and Voldie is not Moff Tarkin.  
> Therefore, I am sad to report, there will be no Death Star.  
> Even if I am stealing a bit of the cycle of the Dark Side in late honor of May the Fourth.
> 
> Note
> 
> Well, we took mom off of the Metaprolol Tartrate and the Hydrochlorothiazide. She seems a lot more coherent without the heart medications and her blood pressure seems to have stabilized. The Vistaril – anti-itching – is still making her drowsy. She also, at the behest of the home health nurse, took a rather strong painkiller. That had her sleeping for close to twelve hours and she was groggy for much longer. I wound up not being able to get her to today's doctor appointment because she was having trouble getting to the bathroom, let alone the curb.
> 
> If she's not more aware by 3:30, I'm calling the doc and asking for advice.
> 
> This chapter leads with a bit of Umbridge crack, it was supposed to be an Omake. Sadly, it took my imagination and ran with it. Again. This comes at the behest of a Guest Reviewer on FFN. I've interpreted that request quite liberally, since he just wanted to see them come to the conclusion they do.
> 
> After that, I am leading the actual chapter with the (thus far) second most requested scene. Xahn777, you asked for it first so you get the credit for this. The most requested scene (Seph and Cloud's reunion) is going to be a while still.
> 
> Thank you, again, to all my reviewers/commentators/well-wishers. You make my life brighter.

**Chapter Sixteen**  


Umbridge, in the gaudily-decorated office of the Minister of Magic, listened with growing horror as he related his findings from the Greek Ministry. His face was growing redder with embarrassment and anger as he spoke. "...and then, they tell me that he's been dead for centuries!"

"Cornelius," her voice shook. She needed him to divert his anger from her, and it could be true. Couldn't it? "Is it possible that there is... Oh, no..."

He frowned. "What, Delores?"

She looked at him, limpid eyes staring earnestly out of her round face. "I-I hate to think... I-Is it possible that this Plato person is a Dark Lord? Could he have survived so long without anyone knowing? It would explain how we still have his books..."

She swallowed, then continued when Fudge didn't respond beyond quickly losing the red color he'd acquired. "And, if that is the case... What if he has been the inspiration for all the Dark Lords since? Could he have backed You-Know-Who and that last Dark Lord from the Continent?"

Fudge's eyes widened and his face paled further. If his green bowler hat wasn't hanging from the hook by the door, he'd no doubt be wringing it into a misshapen mass of felt. "This... we can't let even the possibility get out. The public would lose all confidence in the Ministry if they knew we let it go on for this long."

She nodded, shaky hands reaching for her tea. "But, what do we do?"

He drew himself up as far as his short (and rotund) body would allow. "Weatherby!" he bellowed, "Get Croaker from the Department of Mysteries in here!"

* * *

Algernon Croaker sat behind his desk, laughing. "So, there you have it. I am to track down any trace of this new/old Dark Lord."

"How on Earth did they decide that I was a Dark Lord? And why would I want to be one, anyway?" The man sitting in Croaker's guest chair grinned in amusement. "It's far too restrictive, having to gather minions, submit to the Will of Evil, and such. I much prefer good, old-fashioned fact manipulation to achieve my goals.."

Algernon snickered, barely containing another belly laugh. His ribs were hurting now, dammit! "I don't know, Aristocles. Possibly because you're still alive?"

"Hmph." The Greek reached for a biscuit. "By that standard, the Ancient Order of Unspeakables is a society full of Dark Lords. By the way, are you going to kill this persona off any time soon, Isaac? It's getting about that time again."

"This from the man that thought Flamel would never reveal his extended life span to the rest of the world." Croaker, formerly the Alchemist and – to muggles - Scientist Sir Isaac Newton, shot back. "If we'd all done that, we'd never have to change names again."

"Yes," the man agreed, "and look at all the extra trouble it's caused him. Always in demand for advice, having to hide his Stone from predators... It's far easier to just change names every few decades. If I forgot to mention it all those years ago, well done on being blood adopted into the Croakers."

Croaker sighed, and pulled a glowing green vial from his drawer. "Yes, but now I have to make a new Stone as the old one isn't working very well with this biochemistry. Good thing the planet produces so much of the Secret Ingredient." He chuckled. "Someday, someone else is going to figure out that the mysterious 'white matter' is actually Mako and the 'red matter' is blood from a Phoenix summons."

"A new Stone is a small price to pay, my friend, for the security of your identity. And, they'll have to figure out the Tabula Smargdina, first."

"Quite so." Croaker couldn't help but agree with both sentiments. There was nothing worse than dodging law enforcement for a few decades until they became certain you were dead. Also, the odds of anyone puzzling out their old notes was smaller with every decade.

The man shifted in his seat. "By the way, the creature on sub-level forty-three has not settled. It's still stirring every now and then."

"How is that possible? It was supposedly in stasis." Croaker eyed the small rack of Materia he kept off to the side. If that Calamity was to wake... Well, that's why their Secret Society existed, right? To keep Jenova from reviving and purify her existence from the Planet. It was their duty as the descendents of, and friends of the descendents of, the original Society of Flowing Snow.

* * *

Black Materia. He reached a shaking hand towards it, but the hand fell without ever coming into contact. Blood. The scent of torn earth and the heat of the raging inferno. Mako acidly stripping the skin from his bones as he fell/floated into the depths of the Lifestream. A Temple collapsing in on itself. Stabbing Tseng, his blood flowing across his hands. A sword slicing him from shoulder to hip...

Anger. Pure anger welling up at the thought of experiment after experiment. Memories, of innocents killed – slaughtered – at the command of a corrupt company. Secrets that bit and snapped, not just at the men that hid them but at those that would discover them.

Fear. He was not his father. He would not be his father. He couldn't be his father. It had to be a lie. What father would do such things to his only son? There had to be another. He couldn't be the tainted spawn of that creature... No, he must be special. His Mother's blood must be enough to counter that horror.

Aggression. He wanted to destroy them. Destroy them all. If they didn't exist, then he had no connection to them. If they were dead, then they would be with their families. Families that didn't include Hojo. They would be better off. They wouldn't be able to control him, they couldn't hide things from him, if they were dead.

Suffering. No. He'd been down that path before. He touched his chest. He wouldn't – couldn't – do it again. It hurt too much. Mother coerced him, Mother encouraged him. His desire for revenge, his hatred, his pain. What Mother would do that? Why? Send him to avenge his pain by giving him more pain?

He didn't even realize when he collapsed to the floor and curled into a ball. He didn't realize that Hermione started to reach for him, only to have Genesis pull her away before she could touch and possibly be harmed. He didn't know anything beyond the conflict raging in his head and chest.

He didn't see Hermione turn to Genesis and put her knee somewhere that very few had dared. He didn't see Genesis literally get pushed up onto his toes briefly by the hit. He didn't see Genesis bend over, grabbing his manhood. He didn't wonder how a normal human put that much force behind a blow. He didn't conclude that she'd used magic to briefly augment her attack.

He felt arms wrap around him. He nearly struck out, but the scent... Parchment, leather, dust and ink. Old books shrouded in the remains of history. A hint of shampoo and citrus soap. Hermione. He let her pull his head to her neck. He let her run soothing hands up and down his back. He let her croon gently into his ear.

He wasn't crying, this time. But, he was trembling. He couldn't get the shaking to stop. He couldn't... It was too much. Too many memories hitting all at once, over and over. He felt his skin dissolve into nothing. He kept flinching as he felt blow after blow rain down upon him. The burn of Mako injected directly into his blood. The crawling sensation of Jenova beneath his skin. The wing, pressing painfully against the skin of his back before it ripped through...

It was forever, the images and sensations. An eternity trapped in his own mind experiencing fire and pain and death. Again and again it ripped through him. Once, he would have latched on to his Mother's voice to bring him out of it. No. Not Mother. Jenova.

Now, he heard Hermione's voice. She was telling him that he was safe. That he was uninjured. That she would not let anyone use him again.

He had to wonder how much he'd said out loud while he was falling apart.

Slowly, he pieced himself together. The mind was so much harder to grasp and so much more brittle than the body. Eventually, though, he managed. His shaking slowed. He was able to register that he was wrapped in warmth and softness. That the world may exist outside the cocoon of his dearest friend's arms, but he was safe inside at the moment.

He nuzzled further into her neck and hair, hiding his burning face as he realized that he had broken down. Again. What kind of General did this make him? He wasn't even in control of himself, how could he control an army? He was worthless now. His chest started to tighten, but the gentle hands stroking his back soothed it out almost as quickly as it formed.

They were his friends, right? They wouldn't judge him for this, would they? He dismissed the thought and focused on being held, enjoying the simple pleasure that had been denied him for so much of both his lives.

He had no way of knowing that Genesis and Angeal were remembering their own breakdowns and being mildly jealous that he had someone to hold him through it. Though, Genesis' was more of a side thought as he tried to soothe his aching crotch. Hermione was a born brawler.

Ron was feeling helpless, not knowing where to turn or what to say. Luna, on the other hand, was smiling like a woman with a secret. Her eyes danced happily at how pleased she was with this development. Sephiroth was unlikely to go evil with Hermione there to ground him. Whether it wound up romantic or just stayed friendly, the relationship was good for him.

Quietly, without the others noticing, Luna scooped up the two strange Materia and tucked them into her pocket. It wouldn't do for just anyone to find them and Ha... Sephiroth was not stable enough to have them yet.

* * *

Draco Malfoy stared at the canopy of his bed, once again pondering his lot in life. This year wasn't supposed to be like this. Umbridge was supposed to put Potter in his place. But, then, his entire school career hadn't gone to plan. He was supposed to be the prince of the school. He was supposed to be the one that everyone envied. Not Potter.

He was rich. He was a pureblood. He was handsome. He was supposed to be every girl's dream. He should have the witches of Hogwarts fainting as he passed them by. Did he? No. Potter practically did, though. To add insult to injury, the only ones that were fawning over him? The pug – Pansy Parkinson – and the Troll – Millicent Bulstrode. Even the first years tended to ignore him – or laugh – if he was mentioned or seen anywhere near Potter.

For the first time, he asked himself just why Potter was a hero to everyone. He could only get so much mileage out of his killing the Dark Lord. So, what did they see in him? His looks? He was prematurely gray at sixteen – in Draco's opinion, he looked like an old man with that hair. So, that couldn't be it.

He was a very competent duelist. No matter how much he'd tried, he hadn't been able to match Potter in that arena. (He deliberately ignored the memory of how many times his father had chewed him out for that!) Having had several instructors, Draco was forced to admit to himself that the Gryffindor had superior instincts in combat. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone else.

Was it is social values? Potter's Court – if you could call it that with such a lackluster prince – was made up of mudbloods and the mentally deficient. They were the people that the school would have torn apart if Potter wasn't offering them his support. So... Why were they worshiped and he not?

He would spend the better part of the night contemplating this, just as he had spent most of the year thus far.

* * *

Hermione watched in awe as the boys fought. They had some limited downtime at the moment. It was a rare opportunity, with no DA or homework. So, they'd decided to visit the Room of Requirement for a little relaxation. Harry knew she was perpetually curious about everything, so had invited her to join them.

She was staring with wide eyes as they leapt and fought around the strange environment conjured by the Room. Her perch was at the top of a canyon. All around her were flowering plants that defied description and strange animals that ignored her, but frequently interrupted the sparring match. They died rather quickly after, but the boys seemed to find the interruptions to be good training.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to look away as they fought with spells and live steel. No practice swords for them. Though, from the derogatory comments, they felt that the rather plain sword that Angeal was using was little better. She was hard pressed to keep from arguing with them about the dangerous 'play' with real weapons. In her mind – in most minds – practice swords were better to use when not actively trying to kill.

Her one comment to that effect just had Harry smiling and telling her to find a wooden nodachi the size and weight of Masamune that would survive their practice and he'd use it. His argument – that a broken practice sword could be just as dangerous – was less than comforting. She hadn't been able to come up with a reply to it, and Genesis had rubbed his shoulder as if remembering something painful. So, she held her tongue.

Suddenly they stilled. Sephiroth cocked his head and a new door formed in the middle of the room near her perch. It wasn't attached to any wall, just standing there. She blinked as he opened it, then stepped through. He didn't appear on the other side. Genesis and Angeal were rather quickly following, so Hermione grabbed her bag and hurried after them. They hadn't said she couldn't, after all.

The door opened onto the grounds. She glanced behind her to realize that she was now standing in front of one of the outer walls. Genesis' voice cut through her shock. "He's almost here."

Angeal grunted in acknowledgment, almost vibrating with tension. Harry's hand landed on his shoulder, though, and he calmed immediately. Harry murmured something she couldn't quite hear, but she was fairly sure the word 'forgive' was in there. She chose to take it as a sign of his own agitation that she could hear something that was intended to be private.

The three were now scanning the cloudy sky with their eyes, searching for something – someone? She wasn't sure, but she did the same in the hopes of helping. A moment later, she spotted what looked like a winged – one winged – human drop down from the clouds. At this distance, all she could tell was that he was dark haired and clothed.

Angeal grabbed Harry's arm. "He has a wing..."

Genesis rolled his eyes at his friend and shot Hermione a wink. "We all have wings, 'Geal. Or did you miss that particular fact?"

Harry cuffed him lightly on the back of the head. "Genesis."

"Yes, General. Sorry, Angeal."

Angeal, not paying any attention as far as Hermione could tell, automatically replied. "Forgiven."

The other human landed in front of them. He almost stumbled on the landing, but didn't have a chance as he was pulled into Angeal's arms almost immediately. The burly SOLDIER was laughing and possibly crying a little. "Oof... Hey, 'Geal. Long time no see... Not that.. urk... I can see much right now. Can I... please... get my head... out of your armpit?!"

Hermione had experienced Harry's crushing hugs, so she winced in sympathy as she remembered her bones creaking under the strain. She was, frankly, amazed that he could breathe at all given how hard Angeal was holding him. The spiky-haired SOLDIER let out a sigh of relief as he was released and rubbed his ribs. He looked up at Angeal with a friendly smile... and punched him in the jaw. "THAT was for making me kill you, Asshole. Next time, come to us for help, will ya?"

Angeal, from his newly acquired seat on the ground, rubbed his jaw and nodded. It took a few moments, but soon all four men were chuckling. The new man was pulling Angeal to his feet and getting a hard smack on the back from him in return. Genesis was inspecting the newcomer's wing and teasing him about the fur on it.

Harry was just smiling, ever so slightly. "Welcome back, Zachary."

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Boys._

* * *

Cloud stared at the street sign in front of him. 'Yorkshire 5km.' On the bright side, few things had changed when it came to getting directions. On the down side, he had no idea where or what a 'Yorkshire' was. All he knew was that he had to go north, find a weapon...

And steal some better fitting clothes than the ones he'd found on the line about fifteen miles back. They were starting to give him a wedgie.

* * *

The Dark Lord Voldemort ignored the others bustling around him. It hadn't been easy to gain access to the Library of Alexandria – especially the Ancient Arts section – without revealing his identity, but he'd managed it. Now, he was doing his best to translate books in languages that he barely knew. Worst of all, he had the suspicion that the information he needed was in the section that was warded beyond belief. The guards apparently knew everyone that had permission to access it and was able to see beyond every illusion and glamor he'd tried. He hadn't been able to get past them no matter his appearance or cover story.

Though, he could have sworn he saw Croaker go through there muttering about researching some calamity or other.

* * *

_Chaos...?_

_WELCOME BACK, HOST._

_What happened while I was sleeping? How long?_

_TIME HAS NO MEANING TO ME. YOU HAVE MISSED MUCH..._

* * *

At MI-6, M sat in her office and indulged in a rare moment alone. Her elbows rested on her desk and her head in her hands as she tried to determine any way that they could find an 'in' where the Wizards were concerned.

* * *

Severus Snape listened as Harry described his most recent breakdown. The boy was hard pressed not to have another, just describing what had happened. And his reasons! He'd wanted the child to open up, but he was fairly certain he was going to have nightmares tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes
> 
> According to Diogenes Laërtius, Plato's birth name was Aristocles. He was one of four children born to Ariston and Perictone. He was supposedly descended from a king of Athens and another king of Messenia. Speculation puts his birth year at somewhere between 429 and 423BCE. He was given the name Platon ("broad") by his wrestling teacher "due to his robust figure." (Thank you, Wikipedia.)
> 
> Sir Isaac Newton, like most scholar's of the time, studied many aspects of the Occult. One of these was, indeed, Alchemy. So, not as far fetched an idea as some might think. I'd think he could figure out a Philosopher's Stone, if it were possible to make one.
> 
> Society of Flowing Snow – if you didn't get that and you've played Final Fantasy VII... look up the meaning of 'avalanche.' If you haven't played Final Fantasy, look it up on the Wiki.
> 
> Yeah, I tell you... That Omake had me... Then it became not an Omake. Then I added more to the chapter. Then... Well, you get the idea. It's a little after two o'clock, now. I'm going to go over this for more obvious errors, then I think I'll post it and check on mom. We'll see if I need to panic and call the docs or not.
> 
> Vincent isn't rising yet, but soon. Also, I have a tentative idea for where this is now going. As opposed to where it was supposed to, originally. Yes, friends, this was not supposed to have nearly this large a cast. Logic, and requests, have dragged me further and further into the maelstrom of what the heck do I do now? Beware, the villains are going to be getting more boosts/allies soon.
> 
> I'll try to put a full therapy session next chapter. But, I didn't want to rehash everything Seph has gone through right now. Call me lazy.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer**
> 
>  
> 
> I tried to lay claim to Seph. He sliced me to ribbons.  
> I tried to lay claim to Harry. Mione turned me into a gibbon.  
> With that in mind, I must say:  
> These characters were never mine, anyway.  
> As for the situation,  
> Chaos has always been Harry's infatuation.  
> Can you blame me for giving him more?  
> I don't care, Chaos galore!
> 
>  
> 
> Note
> 
> (These notes were written almost a month ago. With only minor changes, I am leaving them as is. In the notes at the end of the chapter, there is an announcement.)
> 
> Yes, I did just do my disclaimer in rhyme. I was getting bored typing them and figured why not. I know I'm no poet. So don't worry. I won't quite my prose fascination.
> 
> Thank Gil for commenting on where magic could have come from just hours after another reviewer, Kimonhon, asked me a question about it. (Both are on AO3.) Gil's idea is that their magical abilities are diluted Limit Breaks. I never would have thought of that. To add my own commentary to that: The reduction in power of the skill made it easier to access it over time, until it became an almost at-will ability. Further weakening resulted in the need for foci. Also, it slowly homogenized in manifestation as a result of so many people with them breeding together. 
> 
> Wasn't sure if I'd be able to fit that in the story any time soon, and I wanted to get it out there for those who are be curious.
> 
> Wanderingsilverrose on FFN inspired the part of this chapter. Yes, it is the part you've all been waiting for. Fair warning: I am lousy at writing combat.
> 
> Holy heck, we're already up to...

# Seventeen

"Rage," the smooth voice said, "is like a living thing. It feeds upon every small slight. It destroys everything that it cannot feed upon. It is, as far as I can tell, the single most destructive force out there. Not because it has power in itself, but because of what it can make us do."

Severus nodded his agreement. Har.. Potter was making acceptable progress. While he was talking, to keep his hands busy, he was carefully etching runes into one of the golden disks. Nonetheless, he was still speaking far more introspectively than the Potions Master had expected.

"When I was not enraged, I was a good SOLDIER. I followed orders. I slaughtered thousands in the name of Shin-Ra. I conquered the world for them. I ignored my own thoughts and feelings in favor of their bottom line." He examined the piece for a moment before popping into a shallow glass dish. A dash of acid showed that it was, indeed, repelling any substance that would destroy it. Potter ignored his first success, carefully fished it out and moved on to inscribing another.

Snape would have pointed it out, but he didn't want to side track the conversation. Potter was, after all, finally discussing the things that troubled him. Changing the subject now might result in his not speaking of it again for weeks or months.

"When I found out that Hojo was apparently my father, I was infuriated. I'd use a stronger word, but I can't think of one that really covers the magnitude of it. Wroth, perhaps? The man – a loosely used term – had tortured me for as long as I could remember. Even as a SOLDIER, I still had to report to him for treatments and tests that left me in pain for days. With my constitution, that is quite a feat..." He trailed off for a moment to stare at nothing, then shook himself.

"I didn't want it to be true, but it was there in his notes. He was my father. Jenova was my mother. An experiment that he'd locked away, keeping her from me. Or, so I thought.

"I went... as Zack would say, I went bat-shit insane. Jenova was an alien parasite, and the cells that they had infused me with were sentient enough to encourage me. Her voice was all-consuming, and she led my thoughts: 'Hojo did this. He's at fault. Shin-Ra funded him, so the company is at fault. All the people on the planet allowed Shin-Ra to exist, so they're at fault. They killed me, too. I was the last Cetra. They must pay.'

"She wasn't the last Cetra – was never a Cetra at all – but I was insane enough to believe her. I wanted to punish them. All of them. I started with the people of Nibelheim."

He laughed humorlessly. "It was later known as the Nibelheim Incident. An 'incident.' All that death and they made it sound like a puppy had wet the carpet. I single-handedly wiped out an entire town and burnt the buildings to ash. And, what did they do? They put a memorial up in my honor and said I died from a dragon attack."

Severus winced, but didn't interrupt.

"They gave them to Hojo... They took my vanquishers, the men who saved the world, and tortured them to find out how they could kill me. What was so special about an Infantryman and a newly-minted First Class that they could kill the 'Great General Sephiroth' in that run-down reactor?"

He sighed in resignation. "Ultimately, they found nothing. Of course there was nothing. I was insane and enraged. I left myself wide open to attack. A babe in swaddling clothes could have pulled it off... And, yes, I am aware of the irony of that statement."

Harry grinned at him, inviting him to join the joke. Severus couldn't help the small smirk he gave in return. At least his sense of humor was intact. Or, perhaps, it was resurfacing.

The boy turned back to his work and continued: "Five years later, I had.. regrouped in the Lifestream. It was an interesting experience, being shattered that way. I thought myself whole, but I know that I wasn't. I left pieces of myself behind as I tried, again, to destroy everything... I would have succeeded, too, if it wasn't for those lousy kids."

He didn't understand the chuckle that followed that statement, but this was more for the boy's mental health than his own understanding.

"They killed Hojo, stealing my most desired act. Then they tracked me to the Northern Crater. They weakened me. Eight on one combat is not easy, if you were wondering. Cloud, the same infantry man that was with Zack at the reactor, killed me a second time. My own oversight, the murder of Cloud's Cetra girlfriend, allowed the Planet to react to the Meteor I'd summoned. The second attempt was a failure – one that would have succeeded had I been even slightly more rational."

"The third attempt... Wasn't really my idea. Hojo had cloned me. They called themselves my 'Remnants' and proclaimed that they were bringing me back to punish everyone for what they did to 'Mother.' I'd pulled myself more together by that point and wanted nothing to do with the whole debacle. I knew that no one would believe it, though, so I allowed them to summon me out of the Lifestream. I allowed them to force me into possessing Kadaj. I used his body to fight Cloud again."

A small smile flitted across his lips. "I did my damnedest to provoke him into a killing rage. I didn't want to be stuck in some cell somewhere or executed in some show of propaganda for Rufus Shin-Ra's new organization. It was a good fight, but Cloud isn't as skilled as he thinks he is. I was not weakened and he was not that strong. I let him win. Why else would I just stay still and let him hit me repeatedly? That Limit Break of his was far too lengthy to really be of any use against an actual warrior."

He noted Severus' questioning look. "When we take enough damage, special abilities manifest. We call them Limit Breaks. Cloud's supposed best Limit Break is to jump around hitting his target with his sword. Or, rather, swords."

He cocked his head. "That was an interesting weapon... All swords aside, however, I held Kadaj still until he'd done enough damage to kill us. Then... I let go. I went back into the Lifestream, to deal with the loneliness of being shunned by the other dead."

Severus sighed and started to – carefully – question him about the story. He was definitely in for another night of nightmares.

* * *

It was a day that would live on as a horror story in the minds of most Hogwarts residents. Fred and George, on their way to their next class, were grabbed and hauled into an unused classroom. Standing in front of them was a spiky haired man with the most intense blue eyes they'd seen, even ignoring the glow. It wasn't difficult to assume he was one of Harry's friends, as those eyes glowed.

"So, I hear you're pranksters and that you're pranking someone that tried to hurt the General."

At their nod, the man leaned forward with a wicked grin. "I want in."

They exchanged glances. "Sure, the more the merrier -"

"- not like your other friends aren't helping."

All pretense of wickedness disappeared, the man's mood changing in the span of a second. "Great! I'm Zack Fair. Nice to meet'cha!"

* * *

Sephiroth stood in front of the other former SOLDIERs and Hermione. He wanted to show the next DA meeting how Summon Materia worked. But, he wanted to be certain that it did – in fact – still work before he performed the demonstration. Nothing lost a crowd's confidence faster than a failed exhibition. He slotted the orb in his arm band and glanced at the others.

"Hermione, this is a... weaker summons. It is, quite probably, the best for training in how to use and control the creatures that you call. It is also..." he winced a bit, "rather strange. The creature summoned from this Materia can vary. One form is the Chocobo-Mog. It consists of a Moogle riding on the back of a Chocobo, which is a rather large bird. A Moogle is... the closest I could explain would be that it rather resembles a strange teddy bear. The second version is referred to as 'Fat Chocobo.' A laughable, if accurate, name.

"To demonstrate it, I'm going to have the Room provide us a creature. Don't run and don't scream. You are safe. Any of the group of us could handle it with ease. I'll do the first variant, and then the second."

He caught her nod out of the corner of his eye. That was enough for him. A command to the room had a Behemoth manifesting in front of them on the plain. The large purplish creature wasn't paying any attention to them at the moment, since the room had given it a dead Zuu to devour. He paused to consider the two creatures. The Behemoth was huge, twin horns crowning an extremely ugly face. Razor sharp claws kneaded the earth as it fed. It was tearing into the Zuu – a raven-like creature the size of a small plane, but with a much longer neck – with gusto.

When he heard Hermione swallow her revulsion at all the blood, he lifted his arm. Energy raced around it as he sent a beam of light from the Materia to a location a few dozen feet away. A runic sigil flashed too quickly for most to read. Sephiroth watched impassively as a large yellow chocobo and rider materialized. He watched it rush past him and sighed, only to realize that the rider was most definitely not a Moogle.

* * *

Cloud trudged along with the occasional little wiggle as he tried in vain to surreptitiously get the fabric of his stolen pants back into position. He glanced up at the overcast sky and sighed. He was uncomfortable, tired and it didn't even have the decency to be a pretty day. The Planet had better be grateful that he'd clawed his way out of the Lifestream to do this. The first drops of rain hit his head and he sighed. _It figures._

He'd taken only three or four more steps before the sky decided that now was a wonderful time to open up completely. In seconds, he was drenched to the bone. A few muttered Wutain curses fells from his lips as he looked around for shelter. No such luck.

A surge in the Lifestream hit him and he staggered. Suddenly, underneath him, was a large mass of yellow feathers and muscle. He grabbed hold of the skinny neck. He wasn't trying to wring it, that could come later, but to keep from falling off the swiftly moving bird. He focused ahead and gasped. In its path was... a Behemoth?!

Their collision knocked over the massive, almost canine, creature. The force of the impact sent him flying to one side. He landed flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him. The chocobo - a Summons, he belatedly realized – warked, ran around a bit, and disappeared. The sound of metal shearing through bone preceded the thud of the beast's head hitting the ground near him.

Still flat on his back and gasping, he could do nothing but stare at the suddenly clear sky.

A smooth, masculine voice – one he'd pray to never hear again – sent ice through his veins. "Well, this is unexpected."

A second, much younger sounding voice, broke in before he could do more than twitch. This voice, unlike the first, was one that he'd been wanting to hear again for a very long time. "Cloud! Man, you're back? Great!"

The breath he'd just been beginning to regain left him as he was yanked to a sitting position and nearly crushed by Zack Fair's hug. He didn't return it, though. He was far too focused on the man watching them, holding Masamune to one side as blood dripped from the blade. The group behind the Silver General didn't matter. All that mattered in the world was dealing with him: Sephiroth.

* * *

Sephiroth blinked and raised an eyebrow as Cloud shoved Zack to one side and stole his sword. Zack hit the ground with a yelp that, amazingly, didn't distract the shorter man. He seriously debated just side-stepping the charging Infantryman, but that would mean that he'd plow right into Hermione. So, he lifted Masamune and the two blades met.

Cloud's momentum stopped, he retreated to one side. He parried attacks as they came, allowing the boy – man – to keep him on the defensive. There was no need to kill him, and Zack would surely be furious if he did. Still, part of him very much wanted to rend his repeated murderer – or, assisted suicide consultant – to tiny little shreds. His hard-won self control was quickly fading.

He had to get this fight out of Hogwarts. He couldn't allow the battle to destroy the first real home he'd had in either life. A thought had an archway forming. He allowed Cloud to harry him through it and onto the grounds. To his chagrin, not only did the others follow, but there was a group of students enjoying the rare sunshine nearby. "Strife, there are innocents here. We cannot fight. They could be injured."

Cloud was less than reasonable at the moment. "If they support you, then I'll fight them, too."

An image went through his head of Hermione cleaved in two by the sword Cloud was wielding. A sword that Angeal had been so happy to receive as a gift from Genesis just a few days prior. A sword he had loaned to Zack for the day's training, choosing to use the standard issue blade, instead. It wasn't the original Buster Sword, but it was close enough that its weight would easily kill her. Especially with SOLDIER strength.

Sephiroth's vision had never laced with red. No, when he was angry things tended to take on the sickly tinge of Mako green tinged with JENOVA, just as it did now. His hair rose slightly, reacting to the power gathering in him as his wing sprouted from his back. His grip tightened on his sword and he took a single step forward...

The ringing noise of a bullet ricocheting off of Cloud's blade caught his attention, even as Angeal stepped between them. The solidly built SOLDIER was bound and determined to step in. Luckily, Masamune did not impale him. "Enough, Sephiroth. We all know he can't really hurt you – or us – unless you allow it."

He glanced to his left to find the source of the bullet. That was far more urgent than Angeal's burgeoning lecture. Standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest was a man with the wings of a demon. Swathed in living shadow, yellow eyes glowed in amusement as he held a massive three-barreled gun loosely at his side.

The demon spoke in its odd echo. "HE IS NOT HERE TO HARM THE PLANET OR ITS PEOPLE. PERHAPS YOU SHOULD ACTUALLY LISTEN TO OTHERS BEFORE DRAGGING YOURSELF OUT OF THE LIFESTREAM... THINKING WOULD BE A WELCOME CHANGE FROM YOUR USUAL PRACTICES."

Just like that, the anger faded and was replaced by humor. After all, it wasn't every day that a WEAPON woke simply to chastise someone for idiocy. His lips twitched and Angeal stepped to his side. Cloud turned from the demonic creature to stare in shock as Sephiroth laughed so hard that he was leaning on the darker SOLDIER.

Chaos faded and Vincent Valentine staggered slightly before righting himself. The ruby-eyed man smirked a little and then turned to Cloud. He shook his head. His voice was quiet, but carried well. "You honestly came streaking out of the Lifestream without even bothering to find out why he was alive again?"

"Uh... Yeah?"

"Not to interrupt, but I have to know." The group turned to stare at Genesis. "Why are you wearing such ill-fitting clothing? You could have just summoned yours."

Sephiroth took in Cloud's attire. Too short – and tight – denims showed off a healthy amount of ankle and left nothing to the imagination. His shirt, a button down in dark green, was only held closed by three buttons. Those buttons were rather quickly losing that battle. He was barefoot, and his soaking wet hair was still spiky, but drooped down like an under-watered plant.

He tried very hard not to laugh again.

He failed.

* * *

Deep below the Chamber of Secrets there was a cavern. In that cavern, Mako flowed freely as a river with small embankments on each side. A millenium ago, Salazar Slytherin had found the cavern and made several close guesses as to just what the river was. Thinking that nothing good could crawl out of Death, he'd built the Chamber to both hide it and to keep anything from escaping it. After so many years, however, and with so many openings of the entrance and the death of the Basilisk... The pathways were now open.

A blackened tentacle latched onto a stalagmite and began to use it to pull the main body of another – less welcomed – entity out of the afterlife.

* * *

**Omake**  
 _by Yinko_  


"Really! The nerve! Sephiroth, you have got to get a better class of minion."

Harry shrugged "Meh, the Weasleys were cheap. Buy one, get the whole family free. Plus they breed quickly so they're replaceable; I mean there's already a young female, so there's AT LEAST one breeding pair right there."

Hermione looked horrified "You... you don't mean?"

"Why of course! Pair Ginny up with any assortment of the other Weasleys and I'll have an army of low level minions in a couple of years."

Sirius had an odd grin on his face "Only if we can market it. You would not believe the demand for incest porn in the Wizarding world, we'll make a killing."

"Hmm. Get more minions AND fund our offensive... I like it!"

Hermione was left to sputter uselessly as the rest of the room ignored her (cause she's useless).

I'd say that I was a terrible person, but I'm too pleased with myself right now.

_(This was added later in a PM:)_

I could just picture Snape reporting to Voldemort and saying

"By foul craft Potter has crossed Weasleys with Goblin Men. He's Breeding and army in the caverns of Hogwarts."

Voldemort stared dumbly at him for a moment and says "SHIT! He's pulling a Saruman. As if those two groups didn't reproduce fast enough already. Together they'll swarm like ant. ANTS!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note**
> 
>  
> 
> I like Hermione, but I found the rest of Yinko's Omake so funny that I just had to include it. Again, no alterations. 
> 
> A short version, severely downplayed, of the games from Seph's point of view. He'll go into further detail later, though I may not type out that conversation. 
> 
> Cloud's final attack in Advent Children was Omnislash, his "best" Limit Break. I can't be the only one that felt Seph holding still for that had to be deliberate. It was too long compared to his reaction time.
> 
> Zuu and Behemoth both have pictures on the Final Fantasy Wiki if you want to get more detail on their appearance. The Behemoth has always looked like a greatly oversized dog with claws and horns to me. 
> 
> Cloud pushes Zack aside to kill Sephiroth. In his mind, the small damage done by the push is far less than what Seph would do to his friend. He can't let that happen, so he takes steps. 
> 
> About Cloud's clothes and such: In Cloud's case, he didn't think about creating his own. He was not used to thinking about doing things that way. Angeal thinks that he can't summon the original Buster Sword because it rusted away. They'll figure it out, and we'll have all our characters ready for action.
> 
> To "harry the retreat" is an old military tactic. It means that you continue to attack, picking off people as the opposing army tries to get to safety. Not kind, nor fair. But, war isn't either. "Wroth" can mean angry and wrathful, or stormy and violent. I think it's a perfectly good term for his feelings, though it was technically Middle English.
> 
> Cloud killing Hermione? Well, Sephiroth killed Aeris/Aerith. In Seph's mind, the perfect revenge for that would be killing the only woman in their group at the moment. Luna, if you're curious, was in class.
> 
> THREE FOR THE PRICE OF ONE! Chaos, Vincent and Cloud in this chapter. Yay! Hm... Who's crawling out of the Lifestream, now? Hint: It's not Jenova.
> 
> Between FFN and AO3, this story has over 100k hits now. Wow.
> 
>  
> 
> **Ladies and Gentlemen,**
> 
>  
> 
> I am sorry to inform you all that my mother died on May 22, 2014. She was at home.
> 
> Mom's pleasure in hearing what was happening in this story – and listening to me read her the reviews – was a large portion of my impetus for writing. I loved how proud it made her. She was also delighted by all the wishes and comments she received from you. They brightened her day and made her feel that someone – other than her family, that is – cared what happened to her. It brought her great comfort.
> 
> Thank you, for that.
> 
> As it is, I have spent the last two weeks trying to get things taken care of. She was cremated last week and is now, once again, residing in my dining room. Albeit, in an altered form. She shares shelf space with the ashes of my husband's cat, and I can't help but wonder – given some of the noises in the house at night – just what those two are getting up to.
> 
> I guess I just have one last thing to say: Goodbye, Mom. I miss you.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer  
> Bored. Bored. Bored.  
> I'm not Willow,   
> but I'm bored now.  
> And lonely. So very lonely.  
> Hopefully these characters that other people  
> created will keep me company for a bit....
> 
> Note  
> We have Triforce Guardian on FFN to thank for this chapter. He gave me the idea that started it percolating in my head...... Remember, please, that a mother protecting – or seeking revenge for – her child is the most deadly creature of all. You can also thank DAsObiQuiet on AO3 for the later conversation between Cloud and Sephiroth. I didn't quite follow our conversation exactly, but you can definitely see the inspiration.

# Interlude

Lily Evans Potter, wife of James Potter and mother to a barely one year old son, ran up the stairs. Voldemort's laughter echoed behind her, as she heard the thud of her husband's body hitting the floor. He was after Harry.... She couldn't let him succeed.

She reached the nursery and grabbed at her holster for her wand, then realized that she had left it on the table downstairs after starting the range to cook dinner. Between her and it was Voldemort. There was a slow series of creaks as he climbed the stairs at a snail's pace, drawing out the anticipation. Of course, if he took long enough, she could get lucky and the whole blasted house would burn down with no one minding the stove.

She decided, quite hysterically, that she had gone mad if she thought that was 'lucky.'

She was forced to revise that to 'quickly going madder' when she noticed hair-thin tendrils of energy and little sparkles of light around around the room. Vivid green light, at that. The sparkles were almost like green fireflies, though without the bug containing them. 

A droplet of water dripped down from a small leak in the roof. She thought she heard a woman's soft voice telling her to remember. One green particle settled on the tip of her nose and erupted in light.

* * *

_“Lucretia, are you listening?...”_

_“... Yes, professor.”_

_“A picnic?... That sounds lovely.”_

_“What's it like to be a Turk?”_

_“I'm sorry, Vincent....”_

* * *

With a gasp, she came back to herself and herself. So many memories, they made her head hurt. They... Gave her an idea. A wonderful, horrible idea. Especially now that she knew that her son was _her son._ Her Harry. _Her Sephiroth...._

Half remembered forays into the Restricted Section flashed through her head. _Formulae for creating Materia and fusing them danced through her mind._ Using her own teeth, she ripped open the pad of her finger and set blood dripping. Voldemort would not let her live, not let him live. The pain, yet to hit through her body's sudden shock, would be worth stopping the bastard. _Never again._

The thin green tendrils of light wove into her blood. Quickly, she traced a rune on Harry's – _Sephiroth's_ – forehead. Sowilo. _Lifegiving._ The Sun, strengthening the will of the individual. _Increased Mana._ It lead to victory and increased health.... _Improved HP._ It was the perfect rune for this moment. _A true sigil of the Ancients._ The lightning bolt shape was almost pretty, she thought, even if it was painted in her own blood. 

Her blood, laced through with the life force of the planet. _Woven with Lifestream...._

She placed a tender kiss on the mop of unruly hair. “I offer everything I am. Live, grow strong, fight another day. Let my life shield you from him. _I failed you once already, my child, when I let one maniac have his way with you. I will not fail you again.”_

She straightened and turned to face the door. Time to give the performance of her life – or her son's. As the barrier crashed in, she swallowed her wrathful smile and pasted a look of terror upon her face. _You are nothing next to Hojo._

She may be a mudblood. However, Voldemort would learn that a mother's willingly shed blood, given to save the life of her child, was the purest blood of all.

After the curse was cast on her and she started to sink into the Lifesteam, she watched as the rune on Harry's – _Sephiroth's_ – forehead flared in response to a second Killing Curse. Sephiroth appeared, almost intangible and only faintly visible in the green light of the Avada Kedavra. He didn't see her, but she smiled with savage joy as her energies flowed into him. He grabbed the curse and returned it to the sender. He evaporated back into his young body once more, absorbing the remaining energies she left behind... and one strand of pure darkness from his near-murderer.

My – _My_ – son... – _son....._

She reflected, as she fell into the warmth and care of the dead, that it was amusing to realize everyone believed that he got his vengeful streak from Hojo.

* * *

# Eighteen

Cloud stared at Sephiroth.

Sephiroth stared back. Cloud couldn't believe that – vigorous though it was – Sephiroth's earlier laughter had held no tinge of madness. No trace of his insane self. He refused to believe it could be true. 

He couldn't have come back for nothing. Could he? 

Vincent seemed to think so. Zack was giggling and occasionally muttering to Angeal – through louder giggles - about him being told off by a WEAPON. Angeal just smiled indulgently at him. Cloud, meanwhile, had to wonder if dying had knocked loose a few marbles and shattered a few teacups.

It just wasn't normal to stand around and joke with people you'd killed. Or, who had tried to kill you!

Genesis had wandered over and whispered something too low for him to hear. Sephiroth had just turned and whacked him slightly. No real force behind the blow, just sheer irritation and amusement. What the hell was going on here?

Vincent was, as usual, hovering on the outside of the group. Though, he seemed to be looking at Sephiroth with a sad longing that baffled Cloud. There was no heat to it, so he didn't think it was sexual. But.... What? Why?

The bushy haired girl maneuvered her way through the small crowd and casually looped an arm through Sephiroth's. “Are you going to introduce us?”

Cloud blinked at the warmth in the General's gaze before he nodded to the girl. “Sure, Hermione.” He led her closer to Cloud, but still out of sword range. “Cloud, this lovely young lady is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Cloud Strife.”

Cloud swallowed at the glare that accompanied the introduction. It very clearly told him that Sephiroth would attain heretofore unknown levels of evil if he harmed the girl. He quickly gave his best smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you, miss.”

“Oh, it's quite the pleasure. I hope... would it be too much to ask you to tell me more about where you came from?”

“I... sure.” Her face lit up, and she went from plain to beautiful. Suddenly, he could see why someone would be so protective of her. There was a love of learning, but also sheer innocence and joy in those eyes. It reminded him of Aeris. It also made him feel so very old – tired and resigned.

Sephiroth cut Hermione off before she could speak more. “I think now might not be the best time. You can interrogate him later.”

She pouted a bit but nodded. Cloud watched as Sephiroth's wing curled around her, a barrier between her and any harm that might befall. He definitely cared what happened to the girl. He couldn't remember hearing about Sephiroth really caring what happened to anyone.... What did this mean?

He looked at Sephiroth, really looked at him. There was a sparkle in his eyes and a curve to his lips that even he couldn't begin to convince himself was malicious. The girl – Hermione – was curled into his side with absolute trust, nestled happily into the wing. That hated wing that represented everything that Shin-Ra had caused – everything that Sephiroth had done. 

Memories of smoke, fire and pain flashed through his mind. He grit his teeth against the almost all-consuming rage. His voice was tight when he spoke again. “You destroyed Nibelheim.”

Sephiroth raised one eyebrow. “They stood by and did nothing while Shin-Ra built a creepy old mansion and then conducted human experiments inside. They were hardly blameless.”

Cloud growled. If his grip got any tighter on the sword, it would be permanently embedded in his flesh. “That is your excuse for killing them? They didn't know that was happening!”

“A super corporation, run by a megalomaniac, that managed to usurp the lawful government of Midgar? How could they not realize that they were evil?” Sephiroth shrugged. “Besides, you and I both know that death isn't that horrible. Compared to Hojo's tortures, it's more of a vacation. Honestly, compared to what I could have done, it was fairly kind. Under those same circumstances, I have no doubt that I would have done it again. Now? I'd rather not. I've learned there are better ways to manage my anger than wholesale slaughter.”

He barely resisted the urge to drive the re-created Buster Sword so far into the former General that his hand popped out the other side. “But, they still died. This existence means something. It has to. Even to you. Why else would you take a 'second chance?' Why else would you have taken so much joy in making people – hell, making me – suffer?”

Sephiroth's lips quirked. “Well, I was a little insane at the time.”

Cloud's hand twisted on the hilt of his stolen sword. He had to fight to keep from striking out. Only the innocent at the Nightmare's side stayed his hand. “A little insane? That's your defense? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Sephiroth cocked his head to one side. “I'm not certain. I could be a psychopath. Or, possibly, a sociopath.”

Cloud blinked, broken out of his rage by the sheer strangeness of Sephiroth outright saying that. “Oh.”

Behind the General, Cloud could see Angeal give a long suffering sigh as he supported Genesis and Zack through their chuckles. Hermione was shaking slightly and leaning into Sephiroth again. She seemed to need a little support, too. Though, at least, her amusement wasn't audible. She didn't seem shocked by any of this. He had to wonder how much the former General had told her and just how he'd spun it. “But...”

“Cloud,” Sephiroth cut in, “think back to our fight in Edge. You had no Materia, and you were weakened by Geostigma. Even if Aeris had just healed you from it, I know that you weren't up to full strength. Did it really seem like I gave that fight my all? Did I use Heartless Angel? Or Supernova? Did I dodge or block your supposedly invincible Omnislash? I could have rained fire, ice, lightning.... I met you on a purely even playing field and did not take advantage of my more esoteric powers once.”

Cloud's jaw slowly sagged down as he internalized part of what the Silver Demon was saying. Then he blinked again. “Are you calling me weak?”

Sephiroth shook his head. “No, but you were weakened by the months of illness. Even you cannot deny that. I, meanwhile, was in the body of a young, healthy swordsman. I had all of my powers at my command. Yet, you won.”

His legs gave out, and he hit the hard ground. He didn't register the popping noise of the buttons on his shirt, nor the distinct rip from his backside as the seams gave. He was in too much shock. “You threw the fight.”

Sephiroth frowned. “No. I kept it fair. If I had used all of my power, I could have killed you easily right then. Instead, I met you swordsman to swordsman. Remember? 'What about this world?' And how did I reply?”

“'I-I guess that's up to you....'” Cloud swallowed.

Sephiroth shrugged. “I don't remember stammering, but that's close enough.” He let go of Hermione, who was perfectly content to step back and let Genesis loop an arm around her shoulders. 

Sephiroth knelt down to put them closer to eye level. “I was coming out of my insanity. But, Kadaj was determined to resurrect it. He'd been raised on stories of me, and fed more by JENOVA. She fueled his rage, used his feelings of inferiority, and gave him purpose. If I had denied him his Reunion, I would have destroyed him more surely and totally than you did.” 

A gloved hand caught his chin, forcing him to meet teal eyes. “As it was, I got to test your resolve one last time. Kadaj was content to go back to the Lifestream when it was over. He had his chance, he had his moment. You learned that you could live without showing disrespect to the dead, and you ended three very serious threats to the Planet. Everyone won.”

Cloud glared at the man. “And the ones that weren't part of the fight? The ones that died?”

A small, gentle smile played about his lips. “Vincent, you were part of the WRO. How many died that day from my actions? How many from Kadaj's?”

Vincent thought for a moment. “Remarkably few, actually. There were some serious injuries, as I recall, but few actual fatalities. I remember thinking it odd that both Kadaj and Sephiroth took most of the fight away from the civilian population.”

Sephiroth stood, took off his coat and dropped it into Cloud's lap. “You might want to put that on before you stand. Otherwise, you'll be mooning the entire student body.”

He stared at the leather, the scent of ice and behemoth blood clinging to it. “I still hate you.”

Sephiroth nodded. “I wouldn't expect otherwise.” The General glanced around. “We'd best get out of here before professors start showing up.”

* * *

Two days later, deep in the caverns below Hogwarts, a young resident of Hogsmeade screamed as fire raced through his veins. In a matter of months, he would have been a first year. Now, he was fighting against the slimy black tentacles that held him. The madman's hands injected more and more of a burning, sickly-green liquid into his body. A few feet to his left, his brothers were passed out from the same treatment.

His eyes opened wide as they flashed between blue and catlike teal. His hair, formerly a mousy brown, began to lighten towards silver. Clothing ripped as muscles started to form and the child's body grew at a rapid rate. He would have screamed louder, but he couldn't control his muscles to draw breath. Pain and lack of oxygen took their toll and he lost consciousness.

The three boys were deposited in improvised pools of tainted Mako, even as their tormentor turned to make notes on a stolen clipboard. In his opinion, the experiment seemed to be successful. At least, thus far. He would have to run tests later, of course.

A pair of dark eyes, hidden behind wire-frame glasses, crinkled at the corners as his insane laughter echoed off the walls.

Somewhere in Hogsmeade, a mother continued her frantic search for her missing triplet boys.

* * *

Voldemort slipped through the customs line in Beijing with all the subtlety of a lorry slamming into a bomb factory. He had, however, tossed up enough spells to keep the Muggles from noticing him that even the guard he literally collided with missed his presence. He bit back his chuckle and continued down the concourse towards the exit.

Magical governments, being willfully blind to Muggle progress, didn't monitor airports. Seaports? Yes. Road checkpoints? Sure. Airports? Nah, Muggles can't fly! Just a silly rumor.... He snickered again, then slipped into the back of a cab before canceling his spells. He gave the cabbie his most charming smile – and best translation charm. “The Institute of History at Zhōngguó Shèhuì Kēxuéyuàn.”

Voldemort pondered whether to offer the man a bonus for going there directly, before deciding that he'd let him live if he did. Either way, he hoped they had a copy of Xié'è de hēi'àn zhī shū.*

* * *

Almost the entire school had turned out for breakfast in the Great Hall. Not a very common occurrence, as some were wont to sleep late. Still, there was a rumor that something grand was going to happen, so they came. Delores Umbridge was at her seat, waiting for poor Madam Pomfrey to finish testing her food. In the wake of the Twin's pranks, the woman was getting highly paranoid.

Or, to give credit, gaining a little common sense. Maybe?

She didn't expect Peeves to come streaking into the room with a Muggle spray bottle, only to spray the liquid directly into her face. She didn't expect to start inflating like a balloon, or to have music and other large balloons appear out of nowhere. She certainly didn't expect to be paraded around the great hall with ticker tape and candy being tossed every which way by the suddenly manifesting 'parade volunteers.' Or to have turned green. Or to have her tongue dart out and grab a particularly fly-like bit of ticker tape.

The parade took up the remainder of breakfast. She didn't make it to her classroom until halfway through the period, and didn’t even have time to give detention to her prime suspect. A fact that had her fuming well through the next day.

* * *

In a shoddy room in Hogsmeade, Vincent Valentine watched as Cloud complained about Sephiroth. It wasn't so much that Cloud felt the Silver Demon had done anything wrong today, Vincent knew, but that Sephiroth continued to exist at all. He couldn't blame the boy for holding a grudge. Glass houses, stones and all. Still.....

It was annoying to listen to him stomp around on the creaky floor in his unlaced combat boots. Even if Chaos was pondering when – or if – he'd managed to put a foot through the termite-eaten wood.. Three hours of invective was, even in the mind of someone that had slept in a coffin for literal decades, completely boring. He ignored Chaos' quiet commentary on Cloud's word choice and overall creativity of epithets. It was, sadly, not as easy to ignore Cloud since he insisted on the occasional reply.

Cloud, who was now staring at him with a mixture of suspicion and anger.

He met the former Hero's gaze with a single raised eyebrow. I WONDER, HOST. DO YOU THINK THAT HE WILL EVER MATURE INTO HIS STATUS AS GOLDEN WEAPON?

_I doubt it._

“What was that, anyway?” Cloud's face was somewhere between uncertain, curious and angry. Vincent, unable to place exactly what he was talking about, simply cocked his head. “The... why do you stare at Sephiroth like that?”

Vincent blinked and pondered what the former AVALANCHE member meant. Stare at him? When? Oh.... He lifted one shoulder into a shrug. “There is a possibility that he is my son instead of Hojo's.”

Cloud did not manage to stomp through the floor. He did, though, collapse the bed under his weight when he abruptly sat on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes
> 
> The formatting and word repetition are so strange in the beginning because Lily/Lucretia hasn't had a chance – no real time at all – to fully integrate. Two separate personalities are thinking and speaking at the same moment, in the same body, with the same purpose.
> 
> As was pointed out to me, I did not intend to call Cloud weak in the last chapter. Cloud was, however, not in top shape. And, Sephiroth was obviously holding back. See the rehashed commentary above. Heartless Angel, as I have said, reduces an entire party of people to one hit point. A single slash afterward would easily have killed Cloud. Or just Heartless Angel and then a single spell. 
> 
> Instead, he held back. Even though he clearly had the power to do otherwise. Remember, he changed weather patterns in that fight. Not easy, I would imagine. Cloud literally should not have won. I have been informed (by several people) that – in AC Complete – Cloud gets help from Zack during the final confrontation. That makes a little more sense to me. However, as I haven't seen it, it's not part of my head-canon yet. I am, therefore, waving my magic wand and saying that it didn't happen.
> 
> Zhōngguó Shèhuì Kēxuéyuàn: The Chinese Academy of Social Sciences. A research organization, affiliated with the PRC's State Council. They cover everything from History and philosophy, on up and down. If you want more information, go check Wikipedia. That's where I got mine.
> 
> Xié'è de hēi'àn zhī shū: Because the gamer in me could not resist, a straight Google Translate of “The Book of Vile Darkness.” I do not speak the language. If it's wrong, blame Google. If it's right... well, blame Google.
> 
> Yes, friends, it is Hojo. I needed him in order to give me some more villains. Sorry. I might also have a few other things in store that I'll need him for. You'll see.
> 
> As for the next chapter. I have the disclaimer, which I have actually borrowed from another author because I thought it was perfect and hilarious. That's it. I'm currently searching for work, since I need money to eat. It's eating into my writing time. But, there you have it.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer**
> 
> I had found a wonderful disclaimer on AFFN that I was going to "borrow."  
> Then, I realized that FFN wouldn't allow the formatting. (pout)  
> Seriously, though. I don't own this. Wish I did.
> 
>  
> 
> **Note**
> 
>  
> 
> You guys are awesome.  
> We all need to thank Imaginary Raine for inspiring me to keep going on this.  
> I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting mom to be there...

Professor Hojo, once a renowned scientist of Shin-Ra – or, as he saw it, the only competent scientist at Shin-Ra – watched over the vats of tainted Mako with a smirk on his thin lips. He adjusted his wire rimmed glasses and made a few notes on his stolen clip board. He set it on a nearby rock and reached a tentacle out to grab his mug of coffee.

That, at least, was a bonus. This brand new time period still had coffee. That it seemed to have little in the way of real technology was disappointing, but he could fix that. After he completed his goals, of course.

He sighed at the echo of want/need that passed through his mind. JENOVA was a demanding creature, for a dead alien. She wanted to have the world consumed by her cells, and she wanted it now. Not that he didn't want that, too. In his opinion the hive mind of her network was far superior to the idiocy that humans presented him with on a daily basis.

He would, of course, have to kill Sephiroth – or have him killed – for that to come to fruition. These three would not suffice for that. Yet, he needed another. Someone that the boy would have difficulty facing...

 

* * *

 

Harry sighed as he flipped through the Transfiguration textbook. It was a beautiful day. Far too gorgeous for bookwork. Still, he was at least able to spend his time outside while he studied. Ron, a few feet away, had flopped back on the ground and fallen asleep. His infamous snores were disturbing birds as far away as Taiwan. At least, that was Harry's theory.

Perched on a branch and reclining against the tree trunk, Vincent was steadily working his way through a Defense text. Not the useless one that Umbridge assigned, but one he'd picked up in Hogsmeade. He'd already promised to share, but Transfiguration was becoming tedious. He glanced up. "I don't suppose you want to trade?"

Crimson eyes met his. "You are bored."

"Almost insanely so." He lay back on the grass and let the breeze wash over him. "Don't misunderstand, I prefer this peace. But..."

"Hm..." Vincent agreed wordlessly. "Have you completed your other assignments?"

"Yes." Sephiroth smiled. In the last several days, Valentine had taken an almost paternal role with him. It was strangely nice. He really didn't see what others complained about when it came to having someone that cared enough to look after their welfare. Or, maybe he did. Vincent's methods were far different from Molly's overbearing smothering, or the Order's tendency to exclude him from the important decisions. The gentle questions that prompted him worked far better than those fallacies.

The book sailed down to land on his abdomen. In response, he tossed his Transfiguration text up. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He had made it through only about four pages when Ginny came jogging up. She looked around and frowned. "Where are Neville and Hermione?"

Harry cocked his head. "Did you check the Great Hall, Library, and the dorms?"

She nodded. "They said they'd be out here studying when I asked Hermione for help with Charms this morning."

He stretched as he considered. Hermione seldom went outside of those bounds. He reached into his pack and drew out the Marauder's Map. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

Sometimes – more than a few, if he were honest – he really wished the map had a search function. Still, he carefully ran his eyes over each floor, looking for Hermione. She wasn't on the first... He finished with the last of the towers and frowned. This wasn't right. Where was she?

"Vincent?" His eyes narrowed in anxiety. "She's not showing on the map."

 

* * *

 

Hermione had never felt safer in her life. Okay, so there was a madman roaming about and they had no idea where he was or what he was planning. Voldemort, however, had nothing on Sephiroth and his SOLDIERs. Watching them fight, even in play, had emphasized that repeatedly. The almost brotherly protectiveness Genesis, Angeal, and Zack exhibited further eased any lingering fears she might have.

In retrospect, her greatest mistake would be allowing herself to feel like nothing could touch her while they existed.

 

* * *

 

Hojo was a genius. He knew it. All of Midgar and Gaia knew it. That that genius was spiced with madness was considered a distraction by most, but he felt that it gave him new insights and opened pathways of research that others were simply too afraid to venture down. Ethics was, as far he was concerned, simply a cage to keep scientists from truly realizing their goals.

President Shin-Ra, for all that the almighty gil was his god, had received widespread support over his one restriction. The only real one he'd ever placed on the Science Department. Women were not to receive Hojo's live-cell SOLDIER treatment. Hojo had found this to be misogynistic nonsense, and was baffled when JENOVA had agreed with the old bastard. Still, he had gone along with it. Gender made no difference in his mind, so it was a minor thing.

He didn't know it, but through some strange quirk of genetics, the natural born females of Gaia and Earth - not the ones tainted from birth, those indoctrinated at a young enough age, or created using dead cells - were at the perfect metaphysical attunement required to fully tap into the power of her species. That meant, should a human female be injected with her live cells, it would be far easier for the female to fight off the alien's influence... Should the female have a strongly formed sense of self and sufficient willpower, she could kill JENOVA and claim the hive-mind for her own. So, JENOVA was glad that she didn't have to argue with the scientist in order to preserve her own control over the varied puppets which she planned to turn the SOLDIERs into.

Hollander's dead-cell treatment, the one he created Genesis with, barely skirted the boundaries of acceptable. Still, JENOVA had determined after much thought, that the females of Deepground were no threat to her. They were altered with Genesis' coding, after all, and were therefore too weak to issue challenge to her machinations.

Now, though, there was no Shin-Ra to stop him and his love of Science was more powerful than any other influence on his body. Hojo ignored JENOVA's shrieks of outrage and the specimen's cries of horror as he injected the bushy-haired girl with JENOVA tainted Mako. He was looking forward to seeing what it did to her. Properly enhanced, she might even survive a breeding encounter with the other JENOVA infused specimens, unlike Lucretia and the females that Hollander had used. He looked forward to analyzing the results.

 

* * *

 

Sephiroth was scanning the Map – again – when he felt it. The sheer agony screaming down the link caused him to stiffen and look at the others. Their wide eyes met his and his stomach churned. It wasn't the screams of JENOVA that inspired such a reaction – surprising as that was, that tortured sound only offered satisfaction. No, it was the second voice raised in chorus – Hermione was in their link.

They stared at each other in horror, the thought reverberating through them with different levels of emphasis and stomach-churning dread.

_Hermione_ was in their link...

Hermione was _in_ their link...

Hermione was in their _link_...

She was fighting. She was trying to keep her self, her sanity...

Hermione was fighting with all her might, but JENOVA had millenia of experience. JENOVA, threatened by the addition of another female to the mix, was doing her best to destroy Hermione's mind and body. For, after all, how could JENOVA not feel threatened when meeting a creature that had the potential - not the actual skills, yet, but the potential - to equal her? She had never and would never allow such a threat to exist.

On his own, Sephiroth was easily a match for JENOVA in his own mind. But, it was not his own mind that he would need to do battle in. The one with the home advantage here was Hermione, and her willpower was weakening far too quickly. The battle needed to end before more damage was done and he was not certain that he could do it on his own.

For the first time since his rebirth, Sephiroth reached his mind out into the bonds. He Connected fully to the network that ran through the body of every SOLDIER and the experiments that had been laced with her cells. Angeal. Zach. Cloud. Vincent. Cloud was reluctant, but the others willingly joined their wills to his. They reached for Genesis, but couldn't quite attain the needed communion – his previous cleansing of JENOVA cells hindered their ability.

Hyper-aware, they felt the wind dance across their skin and ruffle clothing. They heard the birds chirp around them, echoing through different ears at different times and creating a bizarre echolocation effect. They heard Genesis curse and stomp over to their - Sephiroth's - body. They felt him grab their – Sephiroth's – arm and lift it. They felt teeth sinking into the vein at their – Sephiroth's – wrist and the sucking pull of him pulling the blood, and the JENOVA cells it carried, into his mouth and guiding it into his body's systems.

They felt the surprising rush of power as two house elves felt their bonds react and pushed magic into it to aid their Master Harry. They felt Genesis draw that raw magic – pure Mako – and deliberately direct it into his own body to force the JENOVA cells to reproduce and thrive. They felt his will defeat the control that JENOVA attempted, her mind too distracted to put enough effort into it. They felt him Connect to them...

It had never been in his nature to submit. Genesis had, from the moment they'd met, fought the urge to metaphorically bare his throat to the Great General Sephiroth. The Crimson Commander had always been just as much an alpha male, in spite of his instincts claiming that Sephiroth was more experienced and - therefore - above him in the pack hierarchy. They had clashed horribly and repeatedly over it. Even though he regretted the results, that instinct to battle for dominance was still in both their minds.

But, this was for their bushy-haired little scholar. A girl that was just as loyal and honorable in her own way as Angeal. A girl with fire to match Genesis when her friends were threatened. A girl that offered soft touches and gentle words to even the monstrous Silver Demon, Son of the Calamity.

In any other situation, Genesis' mind would have refused to submit and instead tried to wrest control from the General. This time, the moment the cells reached the required threshold in his body, he was ignoring the pain of initial infestation and threw all of his Will in support of Sephiroth. Of all of them, he was the only one that had battled her influence and won - with swaths of damage to his psyche, but he had won - without the support of others. Sephiroth's mind reached out for Hermione and they followed.

Inside of her they found the remains of a library, torn and blasted in the wake of JENOVA's increasingly desperate attacks. Burnt, twisted, and shattered shelving littered the ground in the massive room. Around that shelving, the remains of thousands of books were slowly absorbing Hermione's 'blood' and JENOVA's blackened 'ichor.' They smiled as they saw that she had, though inexperienced, managed to wound JENOVA.

Even injured, Hermione's soul was beautiful. Her hair was a riotous mass of nearly-tamed curls that only hours of work could attain in real life. Her skin, where not injured or covered in blood, was a smooth porcelain perfection with a golden glow to it. He'd only seen in a very rare few with that appearance while he floated in the Lifestream. She was not perfect by any means, but she definitely had the soul of a Hero.

Hermione's mental avatar, cut and bleeding, was pulling itself into a sitting position on the scarred floor to spit blood into the face of her horrific adversary.

She was, indeed, horrific. In life, JENOVA's body was beautiful. In the mind, however, it was the soul that showed and not the body that housed it. Rotting flesh dripped from the beast, its skin a motley collection of blues and corpse gray where it wasn't covered by pus-dripping sores. Dessicated wings spread up and out of its back and a hundred tentacles poised to attack the golden-glowing girl at its feet.

There was no hesitation as he saw JENOVA's start gathering power for one of her signature attacks. With a gesture, he blasted the creature he had once called Mother and forced her away from his closest friend. He would not let the Calamity destroy her.

 

* * *

 

Hermione looked up from her position and saw Him. Her lips parted in horrified awe as she took in the form that was his soul. On one hand, he was beautiful. Just as beautiful as he always was. On the other hand, there were parts of him that were just as rotted as JENOVA. It was especially evident around his hands, at his temples, the center of his forehead... And his wings? Here, in her mind, he had the six wings of an Archangel. Even tainted, their arcs in the "air" were ethereally beautiful.

She cocked her head and reconsidered. No, the rot was not from inside, like the monster. It was surface degradation. It clung to him like mud, picked up from contact. It was... tainting, but not truly part of him. It was Darkness born of circumstance. It was madness and self-loathing – not innate desire to cause harm. Despite his claims to the contrary, he was no monster. The skin above where his heart would be shone purest gold while the rest of him shimmered in silver. She wondered, curiously detached from the fighting for a moment, what the colors meant, even as more gold spread through the silver and the silver forced more of the putrescence to slough off of his damaged body.

 

* * *

 

Sephiroth was wrapped up in battle with the creature that had invaded Hermione, and did not notice her preoccupation. It was probably a good thing that he didn't, since he could ill-afford the distraction. It was taking all his cunning to keep JENOVA at bay. Without the advantage of being in his own mind, it was more than just difficult to do battle. In his mind, he was only constrained by his own rules. Here, Hermione's logic set the Laws of Reality.

Working through her logic had always been a problem for him. Actually using her logic in the heat of battle? It was damned near impossible. Nonetheless, he still fought.

 

* * *

 

Hermione, for all that she sometimes lacked wisdom, was not now and never had been stupid. She frequently overlooked the small things, but not those that were important for her survival or that of her friends. This battle was Important, so her mind tracked and analyzed all that she saw. She could see that something was holding Sephiroth back. Every blow was weaker than it should have been. She knew that he could do better than this. What was the problem?

A nearby 'book' on the topic of Occlumency glowed briefly as she accessed the memory and she frowned. Of course. It was her mind, and part of her had always had trouble believing in the power he held. She'd acknowledged easily that he had the strength to protect her from Voldemort - that was established fact. But, did she believe he could protect her from this creature? She was the one restraining him, she knew. But, how to fix it?

The answer was simple, yet nearly impossible at the same time. Changing one's core beliefs required years, not the moments she had to spare. Still, seeing him – seeing the power radiating in him – did a lot to bring it down from impossibility to improbability. He was not just Sephiroth, he was Harry.

Harry... He'd defeated Voldemort as a baby and again at eleven. He'd fought and killed a Basilisk with only a sword. He'd managed a corporeal patronus years before anyone else. He'd survived Fiendfyre and wiped out a dozen fully-trained adult wizards. She ran back through memory after memory, trying to recall every improbable and impossible thing he had achieved. She was more than mildly shocked to realize that there were so many, but they helped shepherd her towards her goal.

Since he'd become fully himself, he'd increased that on almost a daily basis. Gravity defying movements and teleporting through Hogwart's wards were only the start. Strange powers, innate to himself. Taking hold of the Room of Requirement and showing her places and events she would never believe if it wasn't for him insisting that they were real...

The mental block broke and the rules in Hermione's mind changed: He was capable of anything and JENOVA was a weakling by comparison.

 

* * *

 

Sephiroth felt the shackles that bound his power shatter. His lips twisted in what he'd later be certain was his most malicious smirk to date when he felt and heard JENOVA's shriek of rage as her power was imprisoned in limitations of belief. Energies raced through and around him as he scoured what remained of JENOVA's consciousness from Hermione. Hermione's newly altered mental system added an apparently exponential boost to the attacks. He left behind only the cells that would preserve her, as the damage and integration were already to extensive to survive without them... Well, the cells and a damaged mindscape.

He was unable to change the physical from here. But, like his, the remaining cells would no longer serve to allow his so-called Mother through to her. Like his, she could reach out to the link if she so desired. Like his, they would probably change her...

He felt his self loathing start to tear through him, but Angeal quickly distracted him. They were strong now, could they completely destroy JENOVA? They thought that he had before, but now that he had their minds backing him? Yes. It was possible. Not likely, but they would make the attempt.

He looked to Hermione. "Be careful. Stay safe. We will find you."

She nodded, and he followed the link out of her and headed for JENOVA... Only to find her mind joining theirs in the hunt, her Will adding to theirs as she settled into their newly formed hive-mind. He felt both amusement and exasperation coil within his chest. She had always been a quick study. Her avatar merged into his, and they could feel her mind increasing the processing power, her quick intelligence adding to their speed in the astral plane. Here, after all, the mind ruled everything.

He was tempted to send her back, but he knew that he could not afford to reject the help. They were going to be facing the Calamity on her own territory and every bit of strength would be needed.

 

* * *

 

Hermione gasped at the strangest feeling that she never thought she had. Communication in totality. There was no need for language, though it was there, when thoughts were shared as soon as they formed. There was no need to identify feelings and broadcast them verbally when everyone around you could already feel them for themselves. There was no fear of physical contact when there was no physical to come into contact with. All of them were wrapped around each other, cocooning in the warmth and welcome available. Even Cloud seemed to have relaxed into the group, despite his misgivings.

Part of her did wonder if she should be shyer about letting her mind brush up against the others. How did anyone maintain a sense of self in this gestalt consciousness? She felt like she was going to be absorbed, destroyed, re-made...

Genesis' amusement flashed through her, becoming her own. Yes, this was more intimate than even sex. But, there were ways to block off parts of herself. He gently funneled the techniques to her and she was shortly less in danger of losing herself completely to the link. Her memories - the part of her that truly defined her - were soon safely set aside and locked away from outside influence, only to be accessed as needed for information. She allowed thanks to flow between them and felt his warm acknowledgment.

 

* * *

 

Hojo picked himself up from the cold stone floor. His head was killing him. He brought a tentacle up to his face and then pulled it away to see the blood collected to his upper lip. More blood leaked from the gash at his temple. JENOVA was no longer screaming in his mind. He could feel her, though only faintly. She'd retreated to what remained of her own body. She had abandoned him... Why? Why would she attack him and then flee?

He looked south and frowned. He didn't know it, but he was staring directly at a particular Ministry sub-basement.

 

* * *

 

JENOVA refused to allow this. She would not permit her offspring to kill her. Feeling them coming, she severed her connection to all her children in the vicinity of Hogwart's. In feeling each connection to break it, she found another link. It was far weaker, almost a latent echo, but it was there. Slowly, she started pumping more energy into it, forcing the few cells that had clung to a desperate soul - determined to Fly from Death - into life and reproduction.

 

* * *

 

In the Department of Mysteries, there was unadulterated chaos. Unspeakables ran this way and that, grabbing tomes and artifacts to use in their fight or simply to get them to safety. They didn't know what had gone wrong with the containment, but knew that something must have. A creature in stasis did not open its eyes. A creature in stasis did not move. A creature in stasis most assuredly did not scream. And most certainly did not attack.

"Croaker" stared in horror as tendrils of the Calamity reached out. He had pulled as many people out of the immediate room as he could, but two males were still speared by the tentacles. They were sucked back, against the body and then absorbed into it. Their dying horror was clearly etched on their faces as they sank beneath the putrid flesh.

The body began to heal. Once just a large mass of cells, he could see legs and arms forming. A head with glittering, malevolent eyes began to take shape. He slammed the door shut and started layering every ward he knew upon it. The image wouldn't leave his mind's eye, though, and he shuddered. He prayed his wards held.

He jumped when Aristocles' hand landed on his shoulder. He looked at his ancient friend and began issuing orders. "We need to seal off the level. Ward every door between here and the exit. We can't let this thing get into London."

 

* * *

 

Cut off from JENOVA, Sephiroth frowned. He had wanted, with all that his gestalt was, to destroy her. Still, there were other things he could do. He examined the mental bodies of his friends and nodded. Genesis was now weak to JENOVA. He could not have that.

 

* * *

 

Understanding his intent, Genesis welcomed them into him. Genesis may have fought admitting it, but his subconscious did not: Sephiroth could do just about anything he put his mind to doing. With the others backing him? The ending of potential control and readjustment of his cells took mere moments. He now carried Her cells, but he was no longer a threat to them.

 

* * *

 

Three more minds resonated in the link. They were young, barely eleven though trapped in newly-adult bodies. They had not understood all that was going on, but their instincts led them true. They joined the link and begged for assistance.

 

* * *

 

Sephiroth felt the call, the innocents and their torment. He felt their proximity to Hermione and, using her as a conduit, moved to their aid. They didn't have the willpower or sense of self needed to help him, but they were flexible and young. On seeing his mental avatar, they rallied behind it as the symbolism called to their souls. Added to Hermione's more subtle mind pointing out the best points to attack, the energy of their youth granted a boost that allowed him to scour them as near to clean as he could.

The souls themselves, he was surprised to see, were indeed ones he had met before. Kadaj, Yazoo and Loz. They were reincarnated into bodies that should have at most known war with Voldemort, not the overwhelming pain of having their souls rent by JENOVA. Sorrow and guilt crashed through him and he gathered those that would have once been his sibling children to him, wrapping their souls in the shelter of slowly healing wings.

 

* * *

Hermione retreated from the link and eyed the injured and baffled Hojo. He was distracted and she might never have a chance like this. Still, better to be safe. In the same moment that she used her new strength to rip open the inferior manacles he had bound her with - thinking that JENOVA would have control when he was finished - she sent out a mental beacon showing the others her location. Hojo would feel it, but she could keep him busy while they traveled to her.

There was no one more powerful than someone determined to protect - no one that would fight harder or longer. Combine that with the instinct that called the children imprisoned nearby her family? She rose from the table as an avenging force of nature, even as the Mako-enriched air around her began to swirl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Okay, let's discuss my take on the genders in this universe. Keep in mind that this is a generalization. There are always people who do not fit this mold. There are many more that do. A man may be more feminine in his energies, and a woman may be more masculine. This does not determine gender preferences, thank you, but the way we think and deal with emotion._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _I know that there will be people who think this seems anti-feminist. I'm a big fan of equality. I don't fool myself into thinking that equal means identical. We all have the right of self-determination and the right to succeed in that chosen path to the best of our abilities. We do not cede that control of self to any other through any contract or action. We only allow what we decide to allow, only choose that limitation we decide to accept._
> 
>  
> 
> _Anyway, I'm sure that most of us have noted that no member of SOLDIER, barring the Deepground experiments, has ever been female? At least there are no females that I have found. Turks don't count. They obviously don't have a high enough cell count to be useful to JENOVA, after all. The SOLDIERs of Deepground were altered using Genesis' genetics - dead JENOVA cells, not live._
> 
>  
> 
> _Because of that, here's my headcanon at the moment: The reason Sephiroth wasn't able to completely access the power of those cells – the reason he could never control Cloud for more than a few minutes – is because he lacks the feminine energies needed to influence JENOVA's cells. His brute-forced Will suffices in his own body. But, he lacks the... attenuation needed to really keep control over the cells constantly._
> 
>  
> 
> _Lucretia did not have the willpower needed in order to fight JENOVA. She was no threat. Her waffling back and forth over Vincent and Hojo just showed that she did not have a clearly defined sense of self and was willing to allow her emotions to rule her instead of working through them. She was easy to manipulate._
> 
>  
> 
> _Hermione is a threat because she has the feminine energies needed for the more subtle manipulations of the cells. Plus, in canon, she exhibits the quiet vindictiveness that we women excel at. (Do not forget, though it has been rehashed a million times, what Centaurs are famous for...) She is also willing to do what she believes is right, even if it meets with the disapproval of her only friends. (Firebolt incident.) She recognizes manipulation and both resents and denies it. (Her canon reaction to Umbridge's speech in the Great Hall.) JENOVA might see a little of herself in the wicked little scholar. Therefore... Yeah. Not allowing this to happen, thanks. Hermione would be just as happy, too, if it didn't happen._
> 
>  
> 
> _Too bad for both of them, that Hojo thinks it's a great idea._
> 
> _Edit to add:_
> 
> _Well, I seem to have opened a can of worms. Since this is the first day this chapter is out, I feel the need to clarify before anyone else feels insulted. Apparently, my opinion that genders can be equal and be DIFFERENT where certain skill sets are concerned is not something this person agrees with._
> 
> _We do think differently. Sorry, but we'd have a lot easier time understanding each other if we didn't. It could be that we have different experiences (social conditioning) or it could be genetic - the gatherer that gets all the information and the hunter that focuses on a single task. That's a nature vs. nurture argument that will go on until the end of time. If you want to see a good commentary on the nature side of things, I suggest Defending the Caveman._
> 
> _Does it mean that either of us is less in control of our destiny? No._
> 
> _It just means that we have different strengths. Strengths that we can only utilize when we fully acclimate to thinking in diversity instead of homogeneity._
> 
> _I do not need to be identical to a man to be his equal, and the same goes in return. Personally, I prefer it that way. Celebrate the sexes. Celebrate our differences. THAT is diversity._


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer  
>  _Ownership of any other person is a horrific idea._  
>  Most of us are okay with owning fictional characters, though.  
> Sadly, these fictional people are not mine.  
> I'm pretty sure that they've stolen me, though.
> 
> Note  
>  _How do I love thee? Let me count the chapters._  
>  You are all such wonderful people.  
> When I find myself despairing, I think back to your reviews  
> and find myself wishing that there were more people like you.

Cloud blinked as his mind cleared the last cobwebs left behind by leaving the collective. Sephiroth, Angeal, and Genesis were turning and heading inside. They were no longer mentally entrenched in each other - it would serve as a detriment to physical combat - but they still shared the same goal. Vincent, Ginny and Ron were staring after them. Their confusion was clearly writ on their faces.

 

Cloud pulled himself to his feet and groaned. "Hermione is inside, fighting in a cavern way down there. I think... Sephiroth's mind said it was below something called the Chamber of Secrets?"

 

Ginny paled to a degree that Cloud didn't think was possible in humans. "Not good. We have to help them."

 

Ron nodded in agreement, then looked baffled at Vincent's chuckle and Cloud's snort. "He almost died down there last time!"

 

Vincent's eyes glinted gold. "LAST TIME, HE DID NOT HAVE HIS COMMANDERS TO ASSIST HIM. NOT TO MENTION THE SCHOLAR. THEY WILL BE FINE."

 

Cloud smiled weakly. "As much as I hate to admit it, Chaos is right. We'd just get in the way. Besides, he can call me if he needs to."

 

Ron sighed, then turned his mind to other things. "So, this Genesis is a vampire, right? That's why he went for Harry's blood?"

 

Cloud slammed his face into his hands, then began the laborious task of explaining JENOVA cells to a teenager that had no concept of DNA - much less genetic memory.

 

Zack was, predictably, laughing too hard to be of any assistance.

 

* * *

 

Sephiroth skidded to a halt in the girls' bathroom and flashed a smile at a curious Myrtle. He'd never been happier that JENOVA's cells were so adaptive. They had absorbed the parseltongue ability that Voldemort's soul fragment had carried, allowing him to easily open the sinks without having to slice them apart to break the barrier. That the sound had Genesis smoothing hands over his arms to relieve the creep-induced goosebumps was just added amusement.

 

"I'm not certain how to get from the Chamber to the lower cavern. We're going to have to search the tunnels to find the path. Genesis, you take the left. Angeal, I want you to go right. I'll take the central Chamber. If you find a snake carving where it doesn't belong, summon me. Also, listen for the sounds of battle. If they become clearer, call."

 

The crisp authority in his voice had them reacting the moment they could, though Angeal had to laugh in amusement. "Not our first time, Sephiroth."

 

As he walked off, Sephiroth called back. "I know, but better to say it than for one of us to forget!"

 

* * *

 

It was a niggling at their senses at first. The idea that they knew the silver haired man. That he was special. He was important to them. He was....

 

JENOVA....

 

Mother....

 

No....

 

Sephiroth....

 

Brother? Father? Both?...

 

Memories rushed through brains too young to handle them and the three brothers cried out in unison as their minds tore themselves apart. The personalities of the present were too weak to withstand the onslaught. The present memories and all they contained, family and friends, were burned away to leave only the memories held in the soul.

 

Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz were reborn.

 

* * *

 

Hermione faced Hojo, and the tentacled scientist turned to match her. Memories, drawn from Sephiroth's mind while they were linked, carried the shadow of pain and terror through her. Instead of cowing her, the knowledge of what he had done infuriated her. He had tortured Sephiroth, had tortured the children in the vats behind her, and had tortured her. She had thought that Malfoy was loathsome, but she lacked the words to even describe this creature before her.

 

A tentacle streaked towards her and she batted it away with a sharp gust of wind. Blood and ichor splattered across the floor as the now-severed tip crashed into a piece of cobbled-together machinery. Where the ichor struck, the floor and metal sizzled under its acidic influence. Hermione made a mental note to not let it strike her skin, even as she redirected the next attack from the maddened monster into the table she had previously rested upon.

 

She felt movement behind her, but ignored it as her instincts clearly labeled it as non-threatening. To her.

 

* * *

 

Kadaj climbed from the vat, newly grown muscles screaming. A whisper of thought had Souba, his dual-bladed katana, resting in his hand. He was in no shape to fight, he knew it. Still, Hermione (sister? ...new Mother?) was threatened. She was fighting for her life and theirs. He could not let her fight alone.

 

He glanced at where Yazoo stood, Mako sliding off of his leathers and his Violet Nightmares gleaming in his hands. The guns, now part of Yazoo, were infinitely loaded and ready to be used.

 

On his other side, Loz ran a hand through his short hair to clear more of the Mako out and prevent it falling into his eyes. On his left hand, his Dual Hound hummed with electricity. Like the Violet Nightmares, the gauntlet was now powered from his life-force. Thinking of the guns, he noticed that Loz's and his own had also been summoned to rest on their hips.

 

Even though she clearly needed the help, he could not let them die futilely in this battle as it would defeat the purpose. Their muscles were new and untrained. They had the instincts but not the control, and would overreach and falter when they needed to be precise. He motioned them back a bit and reached out to the Mako in the air and ground. A splatter of his own blood provided the catalyst and twin Shadow Creepers leapt into the fray.

 

* * *

 

Hermione fought. She was not fully trained. She had only the conditioning and knowledge that she had gained in her limited sessions with Sephiroth. It was still more than Hojo had to his name. He, however, had the experience when it came to his JENOVA-granted powers. He had fought AVALANCHE and would have won if they'd had less skill.

 

She did, however, have instinct. Instinct that prompted her to her best element. Where Sephiroth was Ice, Genesis was Fire. Where Angeal was Earth, she was the Air. Intellect reigned supreme for her, and Air was the power of the mind. It could be sharper than the finest razor or as gentle as a lover's touch.

 

This was no lover's touch she was bestowing upon Hojo.

 

She had the presence of mind to divert her attacks as the Shadow Creepers leapt past, becoming shields to prevent his physical attacks from landing. Her winds kept Hojo's biological attack - a gas that would poison them - from coming near. It was easily swept away and down one passageway leading out of the cavern. The passage had an outlet that led outside, but she could not spare the time to hope that no one was near it.

 

His other attack, causing confusion, was also hers to counter. Her mind reacted to throw it off as only one allied with the Air could, even as she shielded the two Creepers and the Remnants from the assault on their senses. They would not attack themselves or each other, not while she was there to block the influence. Just as quickly cast aside were his attempts to blind them or force them to sleep.

 

For once, Hojo was forced to fight on a purely physical level.

 

* * *

 

The search took no time and forever. That's how Sephiroth would describe it to Snape when they later spoke. Every moment ticked by in his mind, each one more costly to his sanity than the last. Hermione was in trouble. His mind kept repeating that fact in the background, again and again, as he tore through the Chamber.

 

It was only as he was about to give up hope that he heard the screech of an angry Shadow Creeper coming from the mouth of Salazar's statue.

 

* * *

 

Yazoo looked over one shoulder and gave the first truly joyful smile in this body as Sephiroth, Genesis and Angeal leapt past him to join the assault. Genesis and Angeal quickly joined the Creepers on the front lines. Sephiroth, for all that he wanted Hojo's blood on Masamune, was a General and knew what was needed. Hermione's concentration was faltering, her weariness taking its toll. He settled beside her and bent his will to her support.

 

Yazoo looked at Loz and grinned. The two quickly turned back to watch the fight and assist Kadaj with his control of the Creepers.

 

* * *

 

Hojo felt more pieces of himself being sheared away. He couldn't use them to attack as each piece was incinerated by Genesis - that incompetent's failed experiment - before he could reach to control it. The piece that had hit the equipment was too small, too wrapped in the electricity flowing through the machine, to be of use. The larger parts they were removing would have been perfect, if only he could keep one alive long enough.....

 

Forced to concede, he tried to flee through the tunnels. Every time he turned, though, there was a sword or snarling teeth and claws blocking his path. Every time he turned, a new part of him was separated and destroyed. Unable to retreat, he redoubled his attacks.

 

* * *

 

Hojo scored hits, it was inevitable. All of them were tired from the confrontation in Hermione's mind. Some of the wounds were major - like the strike through one Shadow Creeper's midsection - but most were minor. Sephiroth did not have healing as a primary skill and a great portion of his strength was still focused on shoring up Hermione's ever more exhausted body and mind. Nonetheless, he was able to do enough that none of the SOLDIERs were taken out of the fight.

 

He could feel Kadaj using his skills to their utmost, summoning new Creepers to take the place of the ones that were destroyed. He felt the other two Remnants using their strength to aid Kadaj. He felt Vincent, Zack, and Cloud. They were sending what they had - what they could - down to bolster whoever needed it at any given time. And... he heard a drip in the background. A single drop of water hit a pool of Mako and unfamiliar energy flowed from Cloud and (through Chaos) Vincent. It flowed across the link and into the rest of them.

 

It was the planet itself, sending her power through her Weapons to help eliminate a threat to her people.

 

* * *

 

One last blow and the corpse of Professor Hojo dropped to the ground next to his head. Genesis leaned on the nearest Creeper, gasping for breath. Hojo was lethal with those tentacles. Not surprising, given the amount of time he'd had to learn to control them. Dodging and striking back had taken a lot of concentration.

 

Still, he lifted one hand and used the last available portion of his power - backed by a tidal wave of planetary energy - to incinerate the pieces of the corpse in flames so hot that they burned blue. Genesis let go of it and the fire started to spread, heading towards all the JENOVA-laced cells left around the room.

 

* * *

 

Sephiroth caught Hermione as she collapsed and lifted her into his arms. He glanced around. Genesis had moved and was now leaning on Angeal. Angeal was weakened from a strike to one leg, but solid enough to make it back to the Room of Requirement or - possibly - outside to the others. Kadaj was being supported by Loz, and Yazoo had taken Souba from him to carry. The shadow creepers had been dispelled.

 

Yazoo noted his regard and shot him a shy smile in return, then turned to pull a final body from a vat. Neville, Sephiroth was relieved to note, seemed mostly unchanged. His muscles were more pronounced, but that seemed to be it. He hadn't been part of the link, so Sephiroth was fairly certain that he'd just been subjected to the initial Mako infusions and not the full treatment. At least, he hoped that was the case.

 

Either way, they needed to leave. The fire showed no sign of abating and would only gain strength once it hit the Mako pools. He would put it out, or instruct Genesis to do so, but the stone walls and distance from further fuel should keep it from spreading too far. He turned and began retracing his steps out of the cavern, choosing the least obstructed paths. Angeal, he could feel, was at the back. The dark-haired SOLDIER would ensure that no one got lost.

 

* * *

 

Even with Genesis handing Angeal his Invis material to slot - and Sephiroth's own spells - getting out of the castle and to their regular meeting place without being seen was difficult. Nonetheless, they accomplished it. Genesis collapsed against a large rock, then slid to lean against Angeal when he settled next to him. Angeal chuckled when, exhausted or not, Genesis' hand came up to demand the return of his Materia. The Remnants clustered themselves together on the opposite side of the area from Cloud, shooting him nervous looks. They kept Neville's still-unconscious body between them.

 

Ron and Ginny, spotting Hermione in Harry's arms, quickly moved to help him settle her on the softer, mossy ground beside them. Harry shucked his coat, balling it up into a pillow for her head. Vincent, having a near-mastered Sense Materia, started running scans to see what needed to be done. Harry held a hand up to silence Ron and Ginny while he waited for the results.

 

"Hmph. Mako readings and Jenova count are... exceedingly high. Other than that, she seems to be merely exhausted. I do not, as yet, see any undesirable mutations forming." Vincent moved to inspect Neville, the Remnants allowing it after a few moments of silent exchange.

 

Harry sighed in relief. Sephiroth chose not to address the emphasis on 'undesirable' at the moment and turned to face the two students. "One of the... I suppose the closest equivalent would be high level minions of the Dark, from my last life managed to make it here. He's been dealt with, but he managed to get his hands on Hermione and Neville.

 

"He was known for experimenting with living people and creatures. We... didn't get to him in time to stop him completely, but...." Harry ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Hopefully, he didn't do too much damage. Hermione was able to help us... deal with him, but she passed out soon after. Neville hasn't woken up at all."

 

Both of his friends from this life paled and stared down at the unconscious girl. After a few moments, Ginny looked over to Neville. "Just... what did he do to them?"

 

Sephiroth sighed. "For Hermione, it looks similar to what was done to me. On the bright side, it was probably live-cell. That means she won't have the same difficulties Genesis and Angeal had to deal with. On the downside, if Vincent is correct, I've never heard of a live-cell transfusion of this magnitude and abruptness in someone so close to being an adult. I'm afraid that I cannot predict the results."

 

Vincent returned. "The boy has a significant Mako content. I expect he will have some of the SOLDIER enhancements, but he has very little JENOVA. He is nowhere near the threshold required for even the basic SOLDIER program in that respect. The cellular infection may, however, increase."

 

Sephiroth let out a breath of relief that it was an issue he could handle later, then eyed him. "How did you get in the link? You have no JENOVA cells."

 

A fleeting smile appeared on Vincent's face. "Chaos is an ethereal entity in his current state. As we were close by, we were able to attach to Cloud's link and join you that way."

 

"That makes sense." Feeling a prodding at his mind, he frowned.

 

* * *

 

Vincent watched Sephiroth's eyes zone out and noted the JENOVA link had become active nearby. He traced the ends of the link and inwardly nodded. Worried, the two Weasleys started to prod Sephiroth out of his sudden trance to ask more questions, but Vincent interrupted them. "He's talking to your Scholar. Let him be."

 

They reluctantly subsided.

 

Vincent looked over to one side. Genesis and Angeal both shot him tired looks before zoning out to join the conversation.

 

* * *

 

 _Harry?_ Hermione's voice was quiet, and he could feel her uncertainty. It had a breathy quality, as if carried on the wind.

 

 _I'm here, Hermione._ He did his best to send reassurance, but knew his own worry shone through. He also knew that his voice, transferring this way, tended to have either the feel of ice shards or the deep groaning of a frozen lake associated with it.

 

_What's happening to me? I hurt._

 

_You're adapting to the infusion of Mako and JENOVA cells._

 

_Mako... liquid magic, right?_

 

_Yes. Do you want me to ask Vincent if he has any injectable painkillers on him? He should have something. I can't imagine his transformations are pleasant._

 

 _D-don't leave me._ He felt her mind clinging to his and passed along the sensation of a hug in return. Her mind relaxed slightly where it was barely in contact with his.

 

 _All right. If you're sure it can wait. Do you want access to my knowledge of the process? It may not all apply to you as I was an infant when it began. And, some of what I was taught was deliberately flawed._ He hoped the facts present would distract her from the pain.

 

_Please._

 

 _Here._ As they weren't actually in either mind scape nor fully melded, he had to actively pass the data along instead of showing her where to look.

 

 _Am... am I going to mutate like that?_ He winced. He hadn't realized he'd passed along some of the SOLDIER mutations.

 

 _Vincent said he didn't see any sign of any undesirable mutations. But, it is still early._ He forced down the memories of things he'd seen and fought. There was no reason to show her those horrors.

 

_I'm frightened._

 

 _I know. I'm here. I won't let you go._ He could feel it, pressed up against him. It was a terror he knew all too well. The desire to survive combined with the uncertainty of what would remain of Self.

 

 _The things they did to you...._ He honestly couldn't blame her for choosing to focus on that instead of her own untenable situation. And, he supposed, it was horrifying in spite of how dispassionately he'd tried to relate the information.

 

 _Are not going to happen to you._ He let his own determination rise up, and smiled as he felt her relax further. Panic served no end right now, only causing more suffering.

 

 _Little Scholar?_ The crackling snap of fire and the acrid scent of smoke sizzled into the connection.

 

 _Genesis! Are you all right?_ Hermione's concern rang through, loud and clear.

 

 _Only tired. Unlike you, I know how to keep from exhausting myself so quickly._ His amusement was palpable, as was his relief at her quick reply. _You wasted a lot of energy in your attacks and redirects._

 

 _Indeed. We will have to work on that._ Even in the mind, Angeal's baritone voice was reassuring - especially with the implication that they would have the chance to improve her skills. His voice carried the warm solidity of fertile earth and the cool smoothness of stone. It added a weight to his words that was near tangible.

 

Hermione's mind, now cradled against the three of them, relaxed as completely as anyone so analytical could manage while 'awake.' Comfort and affection flowed back and forth. Though he was not surprised, Sephiroth noted her mild shock that the three of them were so attached to her. She was too tired for strong emotion to really take hold.

 

 _How could we not love you, Little Scholar?_ Genesis' voice was gentle, the hearth flame instead of the raging inferno it frequently was. _You have taken care of our General, and show such depths of concern for us._

 

The memories of childhood taunts and rejection was almost flung at them, although the force was lacking. Tendrils of emotion trailed from the whirlwind of images, showing that she'd tried to remove it but lacked their finesse. She would, Sephiroth knew, learn the skill in time. At the present, her confusion, insecurity, and pain echoed with the intensity that only a child could have felt. An adult, more stable in Self, would have coped better. He had to admit, though, that he was proof that even adults had their limits.

 

 _They were children._ Angeal soothed. _They were too young and foolish to see your worth. We are neither._

 

 _We are family, now._ Sephiroth let his mind ripple affectionately in the embrace. _No matter what may happen, or what it may manifest as, we will always be family._

 

 _Manifest as?_ Her voice was now curious, though sleepy. She was starting to drift in a way that he recognized as the prelude to rest.

 

 _You are still young, and all of us are damaged in some way. You need experience and we need to heal. We may remain merely friends. You may become a lover to one or more of us. But, that is in the future. Regardless of where our paths lead, we will not reject you._ Genesis' words, though still gentle, held the same fiery determination that Sephiroth had always associated with him. He fought down his own guilt at the memory of his rejection of Genesis in Nibelheim. It would not help at the moment, though he would remember to apologize the next time they were alone. He was glad to note that Hermione didn't pick it up.

 

Hermione's mind settled into true sleep. Trying not to wake her, the three slowly withdrew from the connection.

 

* * *

 

Sephiroth looked up at Vincent. "Do you have any anything on you? She's in pain."

 

Vincent nodded, pulling a few auto-injectors out of a pouch to pass to him. Sephiroth quickly examined the selection and chose a mid-range drug to carefully press into the skin of her arm before returning the remainder and the empty syringe. It wouldn't be enough to block the pain completely, but it would blunt it and not leave her groggy when she eventually woke.

 

"She's coherent." He scrubbed a hand across his face. "That's a good sign. I'm not sure how long it will take her to wake, however, and she might vomit in her sleep from the Mako exposure. Help me get her into a recovery position."

 

A glance at the Remnants showed they were paying attention, as they were swiftly rearranging Neville. With Vincent's help, Hermione was turned to one side and propped there with Genesis' coat and Vincent's cloak.

 

"If she doesn't wake up by the time we have to re-enter the castle, Ginny, can you get her into the girl's dorm and into a position similar to this?" At her agreement, he continued, "We'll do the same for Neville. If they haven't woken by tomorrow morning or they start vomiting without waking, we'll have to take them to Madam Pomfrey. I'm sincerely hoping they wake."

 

He noted the curious looks and elaborated. "If they wake by morning, then they'll be - relatively speaking - fine. If they don't, then I'm going to have to explain far more than I really want the staff to know. If any of this gets back to Umbridge - and, through her, to the Ministry - the fallout would likely be unacceptable."

 

He turned to the Remnants. "Now, what to do about you...."

 

Kadaj, having shared mental space with him, knew what he needed. He tilted his head up defiantly as he spoke, though, as if expecting a rebuke of some sort. Remembering their past interaction, Sephiroth could see why. He hadn't been gentle the last time they'd come in contact. "We remember the entirety of our last lives. The memories of these new lives we were born into seem to be missing.... Father."

 

Sephiroth shook his head at the news, but indicated his acceptance of the new title through their link. This made things difficult, but a bit easier if they weren't going to reconnect with those that knew them before. Ironically, it would mean fewer questions instead of more. "Then I suppose we'll have to get you some new identification and a place to stay. Also, wands and books to study this world's magic, if you want them. Gen, I gave you access to my accounts, didn't I...?"

 

"You did. I'll take care of it." He yawned. "After a nap. An exceedingly long one."

 

Zack, uncharacteristically silent thus far, volunteered to double up with Cloud if need be. Cloud chimed in with vigorous support of that idea. Part of him obviously wanted to keep Zack in sight. Probably to reassure himself, frequently, that his presence was not just some dream.

 

Vincent agreed. "It will be easy enough to rent the rest of the rooms in the inn. We already occupy half and the others are vacant."

 

A cracking branch alerted them to Professor Snape's approach. He surveyed the group, then eyed the Remnants with a dismay that Sephiroth knew was feigned. "Isn't one of you enough? What are you doing? Actively practicing parthenogenesis?"

 

"Sure. Why not?" He let the smirk show, feeling his muscles release some of their tension. Snarking with the professor was comfortable ground. He couldn't resist chuckling when the muscle next to Snape's left eye twitched. Hard. Twice.

 

* * *

 

**MULTI-SCENE OMAKE**

_(by me - if the Remnants hadn't explained their memory issues)_

 

Loz came barrelling out of the bathroom, gasping. Kadaj and Loz were out roaming Hogsmeade with Cloud and Zack, so Vincent was the only one in the room at the time to take in his heaving shoulders and wide eyes full of frightened tears. "I... I think there's something wrong."

 

Cocking his head to one side, Vincent indicated for him to keep going.

 

"T-there's... hair. I never... why is it... there?!"

 

Vincent sighed. He'd thought he'd managed to avoid having this conversation. He found himself lost for words, even more than usual. "...ask your father."

 

* * *

 

Kadaj and Zack had wandered away to inspect a shop, so Cloud and Yazoo stood on the street waiting for him. Yazoo watched a woman walk past, then turned to Cloud with a puzzled expression. "Cloud, why do I feel tingles when I look at her rump?"

 

Cloud prayed to Gaia, Aeris, and any other listening person or deity for a hole to swallow him up. They, unfortunately, did not oblige. He ran a hand through his hair. He gulped. Steeling himself, he launched into a stammered and blushing explanation of the chocobos and the bite bugs.

 

* * *

 

Kadaj, pasting on his best innocent face - which was actually quite good for someone that had once tried to destroy the world - turned to Zack. "May I ask you a question?"

 

"Sure, buddy. What'cha need?"  
  
"I woke up this morning and my penis was reacting strangely. Why?"

 

Zack didn't have time to really feel the horror inspired by the question as he tripped mid-step from the shock, knocking into a shelf. It toppled, taking the next and the next and the next with it in a domino effect. They were on the street, chased there by the angry owner of the shop, before he really started feeling the sinking sensation of impending doom.

 

* * *

 

**ADDTION TO THE ABOVE OMAKE**

_(Inspired by conversation with Snow Leopard Pasha on FFN - check out SLP's story, Catalyst Array, in the FMA/FFVII section. I love it!)_

 

Alone again in their room, the three Remnants waited until the receding footsteps of the others were sufficiently away before comparing notes. Shortly, they were laughing maniacally. This was the best prank they'd pulled in years!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Bite Bugs — I couldn’t think of a monster in FFVII that resembled a bee, so you’re getting a guest mention from FFX. They’re on the Wiki if you want to look, but just know they’re kinda like big wasps. If you can think of one, I'm still not going to go back and change it – too much work for a throwaway comment in an omake. However, any future mentions will be altered if you bring it to my attention._
> 
>  
> 
> _Remnants — Their revival was not the gradual remembering that Seph experienced. They remembered in moments all that had come before and it destroyed the fledgling minds that their bodies had grown. Those children are, I’m afraid, forever lost to their birth mother. They will not remember her. They may meet her and, if possible, form a new relationship, but they will never view her as their authority figure and never remember all the love that she gave. (*sniffle*)_
> 
>  
> 
> _Neville — Poor guy. He has just enough JENOVA in him to cause minor physical alteration, and just enough Mako that his power control is going to need work. He won't have enough to join the link, or to manifest any of the cool abilities. Well.... unless something happens. *evil cackle*_
> 
>  
> 
> _Hermione — Oh, dear. A new Hive is forming. JENOVA is not happy. By simply existing, Hermione has now made a deadly enemy. Hope she's up to the challenge of fortifying and holding the Hive's mental integrity._
> 
>  
> 
> _The next chapter may take some time. This weekend is the big prep for Halloween on Monday, so my days will be very busy. Nonetheless, I'll try to keep it to less than two weeks. Xahn77 has already contributed an Omake for the event, so I have a fantastic motivation. :) I really want you to be able to read it!_


End file.
